Dark Duck 07: FOWLED
by VAPX007
Summary: Part 1 of 3 -  Drake drove Gosalyn home. With so many things in his head, he was working hard to concentrate on the road. "Dad ..." "I've got to drive, hon." "I love you, dad." Drake's eyes filled with tears that he blinked fiercely back. "Concentrate." Ch15 reposted
1. FOWLED

_**Disclaimer: **I do not own Darkwing Duck, but I decline to comment on the question of whether or not he possesses me at this time. _

_**Claimer: **The vampires portrayed here are all products of some insane escapist's imagination that ran away from her and so far has never returned. _

_**Warning:** My _Dark Duck _series and most anything else that I write includes vampirism and violence in some form or another. I have no intention of sugar coating _all _my stuff. Now, if you'll excuse me I'm just about to kill Darkwing Duck__. _

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Dark Duck II

**Chapter 1: Fowled**

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Just the Beginning ...

It took Steelbeak months of patient surveillance to find her, and then six able-bodied eggman to finally bring the vampire down. Once they had her, she had gone very quickly feral. Make no mistake, they had a vampire. Steelbeak inwardly shuddered as he recalled the way the gal had twisted against her bindings, with growling and snarling and threatening words. She looked peaceful now they kept her permanently sedated.

The eggmen scientists used microscopes and other stolen bulky equipment to try to isolate the mysterious vampire-making compound. A week or so in, Steelbeak had realised that they could spend several lifetimes and perhaps still not come up with an answer.

So the agent made an executive decision to scale down on analysis, and scale up on experimenting. In his opinion, a shot in the dark was far better than never firing at all.

"Uh, could someone get rid of that?" Steelbeak turned away from the dead body as his henchmen hauled it off, and looked at the unconscious vampire.

"How d'ya do it?" Steelbeak contemplated the sleeping face. "I read in the books, you gotta swap blood." He looked at the rack of syringes and picked one up. The blood within was infected with vampire DNA. It readily communicated on a cellular basis. But when they tried injecting it into an ordinary person, the effect it had was a rapid death by poisoning ... Steelbeak paused in his thoughts. His eyes lit up. "Fetch me my dart gun, would ya, fellas?"

* * *

Tonight, St Canard's unvanquished vigilante found himself staring down a building with suspect activity. He climbed up the fire exit and peered inside the nearby window. Launchpad, his hardy sidekick followed and looked in with him.

"That's F.O.W.L's amoral operative Steelbeak!" Darkwing Duck announced quietly to his companion.

"They've got a hostage." Launchpad observed.

"Isn't that...?" Darkwing couldn't be too sure, but she looked like his friendly neighbourhood post-woman. He pressed his reconfigured hearing aid up against the glass and listened in.

* * *

Steelbeak was not having so good a time as he usually did on a job. Sure, he liked the power and control being in charge of his own squadron of eggmen gave him, don't get him wrong. But if his boys couldn't come up with an answer, then neither would he have an answer to give. When it came down to it, this left his head on the chopping block.

Steelbeak relayed the results of the latest tests over his cell phone. He could go into more detail, but only if explicitly requested. Don't bore the big guys with the little picture. And boy, this one was microscopic!  
"... The boys just cain't figure it out."

Steelbeak didn't catch the reply on the phone because his attention was elsewhere.

A familiar dark, echoing voice filled the room, and set his feathers on end. "That's because they're working in conventional science, Steel-o." Darkwing Duck had no respect for the privacy of any conversation between an evil henchman and his boss. He appeared behind Steelbeak in a grey and black version of his usual getup.

The agent shoved the cell phone into his pocket. "I see you've gone monochrome. I like it." Steelbeak gave a moment to approve the change, and then issued the order. "Get him, boys." Two eggmen raced at the caped disaster. Darkwing just tossed them into a heap. By this time, the do-gooder's sidekick had come down through the skylight on a rope ladder. He was fighting off another gaggle of Steelbeak's employees ... with annoying success.

"Egads, not again." Steelbeak covered his eyes for a moment. The situation was average, and he pictured the news bulletin.

_"Villain's henchmen go down in an embarrassment of feathers while villain narrowly escapes." _

But today, the agent still had an ace to play. Right now, he was packing something more unusual than a semi. It was today's failed test sample, in a handy dart gun. Steelbeak considered himself to be a resourceful sort to have configured it into a weapon.

"Check it out, 'drag-wing'. This here ain't no ordinary gun. A single drop of the stuff in this vial ... kills! And most painfully too, as it goes. Now, say goodnight to your friend over there!" Steelbeak aimed at Launchpad and fired the dart gun.

"Launchpad!" It happened exactly as Steelbeak planned. The grayscale crime fighter sped over and pushed his sidekick out of the way just as Steelbeak fired the weapon. So, instead of hitting Launchpad, the poison-tipped dart hit Darkwing.

"Oh, ma-an," Steelbeak chortled, "you good guy types are so predictable." He came to gloat triumphantly over Darkwing Duck. In victory, he watched as his enemy collapsed to the floor, the poison penetrating, taking effect.

"I'll ... stop you ..." With that last incorrigible battle statement, Darkwing Duck exhaled heavily and went still. Steelbeak whooped in joy.

"Yo! Christmas has come early, boys!" He couldn't wait to tell headquarters.

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Moral/Overview: If a man can look upon a failure and find success in it, then a powerful man he is indeed.


	2. Launchpad's Nightmare

**Chapter 2: Launchpad's Nightmare**

* * *

The criminal loomed overhead, but Darkwing Duck was helpless as the blackness swamped him.

* * *

With an electrifying shock filled with apprehension, Darkwing's mind jumped back into consciousness. He found himself on the floor, with Steelbeak still standing over him. A jab of pain wrenched his gut. A bullet wound? No. Knife? No. Hunger? Hunger! What? He jumped up and unbalanced Steelbeak. Hunger wasn't going to kill him, and he had a job to do.

"I am the terror that flaps in the night ..."

Steelbeak blinked at him, astonished. "This cain't be possible. I killed you."

"I am the nightmare that you just can't wake up from." The crime fighter seized the F.O.W.L. agent by the feet and hurled him across the room. He fired his gas gun and the netting grenade opened out, trapping Steelbeak for the moment. "I am Darkwing Duck." He placed his hands on his hips.

Launchpad looked at him, as if he hadn't seen him in years. "Thanks, DW." The expression on Launchpad's face was an unintelligible mixture of emotions.  
"Don't think anything of it, LP. That's my job." Darkwing dismissed it; other things were on his mind. Like his stomach which continued to howl at him.

"DW, Steelbeak said that stuff was poisonous."  
"Oh, yeah? Well, it takes a bit more than a little poison to kill this Midnight Mallard." Darkwing picked up the edge of his cape and spun around showing off a flourish of health. "Now, come on, LP. Let's free the hostage, and then we can get a snack on the way home. I'm starving." Darkwing turned towards Steelbeak.

* * *

"Oh, boy, I am loving that idea ..." Launchpad's relief gave way to uneasiness.

Launchpad watched Darkwing moving slowly across the room towards the villain.

Darkwing paused for a moment, then he reached forwards empty handed towards his catch. A silent alarm bell went off in Launchpad's head. He couldn't place it, but something was desperately wrong with this picture.  
"DW!" Launchpad called out, rushing across the room.  
Darkwing started and spun around, letting go of the net. "What's wrong, Launchpad?"  
"Uh, perhaps ... we should swap? I'll get the cuffs on Steelbeak, and you can free the hostage."  
"Why?"

"There's a reason they had her unconscious." Launchpad replied quickly. "She'll be trouble waking up."  
Steelbeak chortled. "Aw, who's afraid of a little ol' vampire?"  
"I am." Launchpad said in a bold voice. "And you should be too."

Darkwing shrugged, "sure, okay, LP." Darkwing shrugged and turned away and went back across the room. Launchpad pulled out a set of cuffs, turning to Steelbeak. Launchpad handcuffed Steelbeak through the netting as Darkwing untied the bindings on the post officer. "I'll get her home." He announced, picking her up.  
"Sure, DW."

Launchpad pulled out his cell phone and dialed for a pickup as Darkwing disappeared. "This is Launchpad McQuack. We need a wagon to pick up Steelbeak at the Box Factory on Ninth Street."

Launchpad closed his cell phone.  
"Dumb luck; it just plain don't make sense. I got him. You saw him go down." There was the sound of sirens outside of the factory.  
Launchpad frowned. "Next time I have a feeling you won't be so lucky to have someone like me around, Steelbeak."

The police officers streamed into the room.

* * *

Launchpad doubled back to the rat-catcher, a feeling of doom in his chest that he couldn't quite place. Was it the way that DW had moved towards Steelbeak? "Oh, gosh." 'What if DW doesn't come back?' He fretted. He hurried to the rat-catcher.

"There you are, LP." Darkwing started the engine and Launchpad jumped into the sidecar. "Let's get something to eat before I faint."

Launchpad sat there in relief. Maybe it was dumb luck, and DW really was okay.

* * *

At the Hungry Hippo outlet, Darkwing Duck took one look at the hamburger on his plate before sliding it across to Launchpad.

"Gee, DW, I thought you were hungry?" Launchpad wasn't about to say no to an extra hamburger of course, but just the same.

"Yeah, but I ... ooh, boy." Launchpad saw him grimace, clutching his stomach. "I couldn't eat that ... slop." DW grabbed Launchpad, looking very, very grave. There was a spectral glint in his eye that Launchpad had never seen. "Come on, Launchpad, let's ... get ... vegetables." He pulled back from Launchpad quite as suddenly as he had seized him.

"Uh," Launchpad was not the type to waste food, and so thought very quickly on the matter, "Can I get this to go?"

Darkwing fast paced down the street, not waiting for him to catch up. This gave Launchpad a chance to take stock as the attendant handed him a paper bag with the hamburger wrapped up. And his instincts told him that, while Darkwing Duck was certainly not dead like Steelbeak had hoped, there was still something majorly wrong with the Masked Mallard.

* * *

At the '7Eleven' store, DW devoured a bag of oranges, a bag of apples and a bunch of bananas. The only thing he left was the banana skins and the bags. And all this left Darkwing still lamenting a hungry state.

"This isn't working." Darkwing threw the rubbish into the trash can outside the door.  
"A bit of juice won't hurt, anyway. I'll get it." Launchpad bought it, then handed his buddy the large bottle of tomato super-juice.

DW wasn't feeling very positive anymore. "Come on, LP, it's madness to stick around here." He put the bottle of juice into the sidecar's compartment, and switched to his helmet as Launchpad joined him.

* * *

Ten minutes later, they were back at Darkwing Tower. As soon as he'd stopped the engine, DW grabbed the bottle from beside Launchpad. He downed the juice in one excessively long swig that made Launchpad's feathers prickle. DW lowered the empty bottle.

There was a misery on his friend's face that made Launchpad ache with sadness. All that the air ace could do was watch helplessly as DW battled the relentless hunger.

Darkwing sank to the floor. "What the heck is wrong with me?" He cried out hysterically. The sound of his own terrified voice frightened DW back into reality. He swallowed his next outburst, working to regain his composure.

"You probably just need some rest. It looks to me like it could be a stomach bug or something," Launchpad suggested without even blinking. The little white lies came easy when he needed them. DW agreed to this idea, and said goodnight.

"Coming, Launchpad?"  
"Uh, no-no, I'll ... just finish up here. Top up the fuel and stuff. You know." He stood up and walked towards the motorcycle. He turned. "Goodnight, buddy."  
"Sure, you too, LP." Darkwing wearily headed towards the trap door. The instant he'd disappeared, Launchpad collapsed to the floor.

All this reminded Launchpad of that horrid night, some time last year, when they had accidentally arrived at the Macawber family castle through Morgana's magic portal. In a single gesture, Moloculo had transfigured Launchpad into a vampire bat. It had been just for a night, but the experience still sometimes woke Launchpad up as he slept, remembering that terrible, nightmarish hunger.

Just like tonight, it had been the same for LP then. No amount of tomato juice could ever stop that horrid craving. But this time it was not a magic spell, and reality couldn't be undone. One would only make a worse mess of things for trying.

These things he knew with all his heart and it tore him in two.

"Steady, Launchpad, steady." He took deep gulping breaths. "This happened to him, because he took the hit for me." He wiped the tears from his eyes. "The last thing that Darkwing Duck would ever do is lose control and hurt an innocent." All the same, for his own conscience, he'd better make sure Gosalyn was alright. He ignored the rat-catcher, and went to the trap door.

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Moral/Overview: Sometimes, a white lie will help a person better than the truth.


	3. What We Live With

**Chapter 3: What We Live With**

"Rise and shine, Dad, its Saturday!"  
"Yee-ach ... bright ... light!" Drake shielded his eyes in pain.  
"It's just the sun. Come on, you promised to take me to ..." Drake jumped out of bed and hoisted Gosalyn onto his shoulders mid-stride. She laughed.  
"I wouldn't miss your baseball match for the world. But first, let's get some breakfast."

Drake peered into the fridge and grabbed the milk out of the door out of habit. He discarded it on the table, shrugging, that's not what he wanted. Gosalyn had the cereal down and yanked the top off the milk. Drake considered the cereal option for a long moment, and then began ferreting through the fridge again. He grabbed out a bag of carrots and then devoured the lot. He went back into the fridge, found the bag of tomatoes, and finished them off. Then he demolished the green vegetable assortment, all of them raw. He dismissed the jar of pickles, and slammed the fridge door in disappointment.

All the while, Gosalyn had finished her breakfast, and had been watching him. "Dad, that's really weird."  
"You don't have to tell me." Drake had eaten the entire contents of the vegetable crisper, and he was still sick with hunger. He sank into the chair.  
"Try the cereal. They say ..."  
He shook his head, he couldn't touch the stuff. Gosalyn considered him for a long moment.  
"What happened to you last night?"  
"I don't know. Steelbeak poisoned me. It was supposed to kill me."

"And you didn't go to the hospital, of course!" She harrumphed. "What happened then?"  
"Well, I just blacked out. I woke up seconds later." Gosalyn tapped her beak in deep thought. She went to the fridge. "What about this?" She landed the tray of meat on the table. Drake scrambled back from it.

"Is that past its use by date? Yuck!"  
"No, its got five days." Gosalyn read the label. She picked up the tray, and Drake backed further away from it. "Huh, maybe it needs to be fresh," she slapped her forehead, "well, du-uh!" She put the meat back in the fridge. "When you say it out loud ..." She snorted derisively to herself.  
"That's off; it should go in the bin."

"It's fine, for us 'normal' people. That is. Just not for you." She prodded him. "Hmmm, let's see." She tapped her beak thoughtfully again. "You don't really like sunlight and the meat isn't fresh enough for you. You were poisoned by something that kills ordinary people, but instead you just 'blacked out'. But most importantly, you're still hungry after eating all those vegetables." She shrugged, "after the game, we'll get this sorted out. Besides," She giggled, "You've already eaten the pantry, so there's no point in staying here any longer."

Above them, the sun shone hot and bright. In the stands, as he considered the crisp blue of the day, Drake was shoved sideways by a large pig with a tray of food and soda pop. Drake recoiled, anger rising very quickly. He clenched his fists. His stomach was howling in hunger.

"Oh, uh, excuse me." The pig turned halfway to nod back at him, before he continued lumbering on down the aisle. He hadn't meant to bump into Drake?

"Da-ad!" Gosalyn raced across the green from her team to wave at him. He went to the fencing.  
"You should be getting ready." He said to her through the chicken wire.  
"I am ready!" She was, and she looked very pretty in her dark blue sports gear and hefty padding strips, her helmet in her hand. "Are you alright?"  
'Yeah, I'm fine." He swallowed the last of his rage. Gosalyn had a peculiar look on her face. "Go on, go knock 'em silly. I'll be right over here, cheering you on." She raced off, and Drake glanced back at the pig, sitting, eating the massive tray load of junk food. Yeech. That man was on his way to a coronary. Suddenly the hunger had eased up a little.

Drake found a seat, and focused his attention on the game. He blinked as Launchpad sat down with his own tray of food beside him. "I'm glad you made it, Launchpad." Launchpad looked at him, practically beaming. Drake couldn't think why. But the good mood was catching, and Drake couldn't help but smile back.

"Well, the line at the food cart was ... Oh, you mean the game!" Launchpad chuckled. "Sure, I wouldn't miss Gos's big event. If they win this one, they'll get to play Duckberg's champion team. Oh, sorry, you wanna b-ah-I mean you want some? This food is great! Better than Hungry Hippo. Definitely worth waiting in line for."  
"No, thanks." Drake wondered why Launchpad was so keen on selling him on the stuff. "I still wouldn't call it food, LP." Drake plucked up his mental strength, and focused with all his might on the baseball game, ignoring the smells of grease and sugary soda pop around him.

After the game there were more celebrations with more junk food and more sugary soda pop under the shade cloth that the coach had set up. Drake stood in the middle of it all. Who said western society was unhealthy? Here was a perfectly healthy activity, ruined with artificial flavours, sugars, and a huge side order of grease. But at least Drake had picked up some immunity to the smell by now.

"Howdy, neighbour." Herb came up, slapping him on the back.  
"Oh, hi Herb."  
"That was a great game, wasn't it, ol' buddy?"  
"Oh, yes, absolutely. I think your son's quite switched on." Drake recounted the best action in his head that highlighted Tank's abilities. Herb gushed in pleasure. Drake grinned back. This was the first time in his life that he didn't mind Herb's ranting. All Drake was noticing was the warm fuzzy feeling surrounding the big-hearted salesman.

After a while, Drake detected a feeling of concern. He looked down.  
"Dad?" Gosalyn looked up at him, and guess what sort of expression she had on her face?  
"Uh, we'd better be off. See ya later, Herb." Drake waved goodbye at the crowd of Gosalyn's team mates and their families, and stepped out with Gosalyn. She walked to the car and he followed her.  
"Right, let's go." She dumped her baseball bat in the back seat.  
Drake paused. "It would be helpful, since I'm the driver, to have an idea of where we might be going?"

_Moral/Overview: The benefits of good feelings can be maximised by sharing them with others. Also, this sort of dividend is tax free and has no strings attached._


	4. Security Invitation

**Chapter 4: Security Invitation**

Drake may have been grizzling about Gosalyn's idea of how to get things 'sorted out', but instinctively he knew she was probably right. They parked in the underground car park and took the elevator down to the X level where Hamil Corporation's medical offices were located. He looked down at the services officer seated, typing away at her desk.

"I'd like to see doctor Anatra if he's available?"  
"You'll need to fill in these referral forms." She held out a clipboard, but snatched it back before he had his fingers on it. "Do you have employee clearance to be on this level, sir?"  
"Employee? No, but I've ..."  
"Then you'll have to leave."  
"But this is ridiculous, I'm ..."  
"Security." Drake and Gosalyn were surrounded by vampire security officers in a moment.

"Geez, dad, you've got a real knack for upsetting people." Drake's hands were Velcroed together and they were now standing in the security offices.  
"Since I'd been to see Doctor Simon Anatra before, I didn't think there'd be a problem." He contemplated his bindings. "They really love their Velcro, these people." Head of security, Lawrence Eider walked in the doorway, talking intently with one of the guards that had brought Drake and Gosalyn from medical.

"So I see, he doesn't ..."  
"Eider? Do you mind telling me what I did wrong?" Eider did a double take, looking at Gosalyn, then back at Drake.  
"Let him go."  
"But ..." The guard shrugged and ripped the Velcro from Drake's wrists.  
"Just a misunderstanding, Drake. I'm really sorry about this. Perhaps you should head up to see Rattray? We have our old CEO back."  
"I just came to see the doctor."  
"Believe me, you d-uh... you should see Rattray." Drake frowned. Eider had been about to say something else. As in... Drake paused. As in 'you don't want to see the doctor'?

"Sir." Eider led Drake and Gosalyn through the doors. "This is Drake Mallard for you, sir."  
"... On provisional payroll." Rattray blinked up at Drake, no recognition on his face. "What's wrong with his security clearance, Eider?"  
"I'll have it fixed shortly, sir." Rattray watched Eider for a few moments, still hovering behind Gosalyn.

"So, uh, Mister Mallard. May I ask what your job description is? It wasn't attached to your employment agreement."  
"I specifically asked that it wasn't."  
"The agreement itself simply says 'contract services rendered'. I can't say our accountants like the lack of specifics."  
Eider cleared his throat. "You can allocate it to security, sir." Rattray raised an eyebrow at Eider.  
"Indeed? I thought you could at least ensure that your own department had correct access levels issued."

"Well, he is only on contract, sir. There can be some delays in processing since updates only happen when the employee reports in." Eider turned to Drake, "the next time if someone asks you if you're employed here, Drake, say yes."  
"I'll remember that." Drake frowned at Eider's sad, apologetic face. He was really sorry about the situation, and it was hard for Drake to stay angry at him.

"Well." Rattray grabbed the bundle of papers and straightened them into a neat pile. "That sorts out my question." He looked up expectantly. "Was there something specific you wanted, Eider?" Eider made a small strangled sound. He rubbed his face.

"No sir, sorry sir."

_Moral/Overview: When you need quality, accept no substitute. _


	5. A Vampire

_A/N: Some things come easy while other things are so darn difficult. This is a prime case for the latter for me._

**Chapter 5: A Vampire**

Drake was an expert tactical thinker. Situational analysis and outsmarting the bad guy was how he managed to do his job without getting killed.

Lately, Drake felt, with this strange stomach bug, the tactical side of his brain was not behaving the way he needed it to.

Drake was overly sensitive to the people around him, and he had a growing apprehension as he stood next to Eider in the elevator. It came to the point that he couldn't think about much else.

The guard took them down the elevator back to the security level. He addressed the officer at the security level's front desk. The woman there had brown hair in a bob-cut style. "Joss, could you please look after Gosalyn for a little while?"  
"Oh, no way!"  
"Please. Gosalyn." Eider knelt down to her eye-level. He put a hand on her shoulder. "Sit this one round out for me."  
Gosalyn blinked at him for a brief moment. "I knew it," she declared.  
Eider led Drake away, who turned his head to look back at Gosalyn. By the expression on his face, she could read the question in his mind: 'You knew what?' Eider ushered her father into a nearby room and shut the door. The instant she heard the click, Gosalyn rushed down the corridor and pressed her ear up against the door.

Drake's feathers prickled in response to Eider's unhappiness. "I know what happened. I was there."  
Eider shook his head. He covered his face with his hands for a moment. He looked at Drake. The security guard had gone decidedly pale. "Drake, what Steelbeak did to you was ..." Eider let out another strangled sound.

"I got hit with a poison dart. I only lost consciousness for a few seconds."  
"Stop." Eider circled Drake. "You've got to realise that if it hadn't been for your Vespers, you'd be dead."  
"Sure okay, so then I woke up ..."  
"No." Eider stopped him again.  
"Are you saying I'm in a coma, dreaming all of this?" Drake felt properly ruffled. He had also contracted Eider's discomfort, and that knowledge only worsened his mood.

"Unfortunately not." Eider rubbed his eyes again. "The dart injected vampire DNA and Vespers into your bloodstream. They affected every other Vesper in your body like a super delivery system. It was while this was happening that you were unconscious."  
"Vampire DNA? Are you trying to ...?" Drake grimaced as the reality crept up on him. It was starting to make sense, and Drake didn't like where the conclusion was heading.

"Excuse me?" Gosalyn jumped a foot and whirled around from the door. "Sorry." She looked up at Joss expectantly. "I'm supposed to keep an eye on you."  
"Well, I'm just here, and I'm not interfering." Gosalyn crossed her arms. "I'm worried about my dad." Joss's face softened.  
"I understand." Joss nodded and went back to her desk. Gosalyn put her ear to the door again.

"Yeah! Vegetables are a healthy alternative. You don't get full on them, of course." Eider's voice wavered in a mirthless chuckle. Drake sat down on the floor. "What am I going to do?" His brain was fuzzy and the answer was nowhere in sight.  
"For a start, reassure yourself that you don't need to be full. It's perfectly fine to be hungry. It just might take a bit of getting used to."

Somehow, he'd been turned into a monstrous animal. Drake felt his whole world crashing in on him. And what about poor Gosalyn, what would happen to her?  
"No, you are not!" Eider pulled Drake to a stand, snapping down on his thoughts. "I know you too well. Animals are not in control of their hunger. But you are in control! Even when the hunger is so extreme, threatening to make you an animal! You still have a chance to do something about it and stay in control."

Eider crossed his arms. "I went for months without food once, when I was hunting a Drescamorphic demon." Eider licked his beak. "So you can see that's a significant resistance level. The only trick is to stay focused on the task, pay attention, and know that you will get food for yourself soon enough."  
"Yes ..." Drake paused. His brain felt like it had half-melted from shock.

He shook his head in a daze. "This can't be real."  
"Oh, no?" Eider twisted about, tripped him up and pinned Drake to the floor. "You gotta think fast, Drakey."  
"Get ophmm." Eider wedged his lower arm in Drake's beak. Drake struggled, feeling a horror increasing in his mind that he could not prevent. Then blood filled his mouth. In a mixture of relief and grief, he found himself swallowing. Drake pushed Eider away as soon as he got control back. He closed his eyes, the taste of blood in his mouth. He swallowed the remnants.

"A vampire." Eider watched Drake patiently. "Now your Vespers know what mine know. It's just a matter of connecting the tools with your own knowledge." Drake stood up, summoning enough strength to finally shake free of the bizarre feeling.  
"No thanks. I don't want to be a vampire."  
"Are you forgetting? You're in my departmental expenses now." Drake looked at him, totally incredulous. Eider was presenting Drake with the same thing as Malduck. "Alright, you want to walk out that door? Tell me first, what's on the other side of that door. Then you can open it. No, don't guess. Know. Push your mind out." Drake closed his eyes: Gosalyn, heart racing. He leapt to the door and yanked it open.

"Hiyah, dad?" She was lounging against the opposite wall, trying to appear innocent.  
"Well, I could've guessed that one." Drake swept Gosalyn up into his arms, giving her a warm hug. Oh, how he loved his crafty little girl. As he held her, the world made sense again.  
"The point I'm trying to make is that it can be useful to you."  
"Yes ... I'd really appreciate it if you could train me. Thank you."

Eider blinked in surprise. Then he grinned. "I take that as a compliment." Drake kept hold of Gosalyn. Her mental state was stable, and it gave him great relief to have found the cause for his recent mental off-road adventure. In fact ... Drake cast his mind back. Since he'd become a vampire, the only times he'd been thinking straight, was when Gosalyn was by his side. He set her down, his heart swelling with pride for his daughter. He turned back to Eider.  
"First, perhaps, you could teach me how to keep from being overrun by other people's angst?" Eider blushed, and then nodded.

_Moral/Overview: Surround yourself with positive people, and you will be positive too._


	6. Reflections

**Chapter Six: Reflections**

**

* * *

**

Drake drove Gosalyn home. With so many things in his head, he was working hard to concentrate on the road.

"Dad ..."  
"I've got to drive, hon."  
"I love you, dad."  
Drake's eye filled with tears that he blinked fiercely back. "... Concentrate." He had to empty his head.

It gradually became easier, and they were back in the suburb, and then back in their driveway.

* * *

It had been a long day for both of them as he let Gosalyn back into the house. Drake stepped into the hallway, staring into the kitchen. All that food he'd eaten, and it turned out it had little to do with being hungry.

'It doesn't fill you up, of course.' Eider had given Drake no room for doubt that he had to grin and bear it. At least now he understood what the problem was ... he shuddered.

"Dad?"  
He turned back; Gosalyn was now in her nightgown. How long had he been mulling things over for? "Yes, Gosalyn?"

She went into the lounge room and he sat down next to her. There was a new, overpowering smell of mint toothpaste and mouthwash surrounding her. "I think it's really good that you didn't figure it out yourself."  
"How do you come to that opinion?"  
"Because it means you can still see people as people." She took a long breath. "The number one thing about vampires is drinking blood. It sort of is the definition for a vampire, or you'd be something else."

Drake looked away from her, feeling uncomfortable. Blood, blood, blood. Now that Eider had put the idea into his head, he couldn't seem to get it out. "I guess knowing is the first step to dealing with a problem." He took a deep breath.

"Next thing is sunlight."  
"I'm alright with sunlight."  
"No, dad, you're almost alright with sunlight." She corrected. "That makes me think, that if you're not careful, you really might go 'poof'."  
" ... 'Careful' ... how do you mean?"  
Gosalyn shrugged. "I'm being intuitive, dad. That sort of thing usually works out for me." She leaned forwards and kissed his forehead. "Don't worry; I'll take care of you, dad."

She hopped off the couch and stopped at the stairs. "And I think you should definitely go back to Mr. Eider, but just in case, don't let him make you do anything evil, okay?"  
A streak of panic ran through Drake like Megavolt had taken a potshot at him, "evil?" He squawked.

"No, no! I mean, I don't know what he's really like or anything. I'm just covering off the checkpoints." She yawned. "Goodnight, dad."

He stood up but then stopped. "Goodnight, sweetheart."

* * *

He stood there for about half a minute, every second driving him crazier with misery. He shook his head. "I have to." He went up the stairs.

"What sort of father would I be if I didn't tuck you in?" He kissed her forehead. "I love you, sweetie."  
She smiled at him then yawned. "Don't forget the date with Morgana, dad." Then she drifted to sleep.  
Drake tightened the covers around her and he went to the door, closing it behind him. He sighed; the ache in his body had subsided. He rubbed his head. "What was that?" Because, whatever the cause, it certainly wasn't hunger.

He walked down the stairs and picked up the phone. How embarrassing, he really hadn't remembered the date, even though it was every Sunday because currently that was Morgana's night off from the restaurant while she was still training her staff. He clenched his hand around the phone, his body and head were aching again. Really, all he wanted was to forget the phone call and keep the date tomorrow. But logic and reasoning said that was not a thing he should do until he had a better understanding of what was happening with him.

He dialed the number.

"Hi, Morgana." He could die for cutting back the time he had with her. "I ... I'm not well, I'd better not ... can we leave our date till next Sunday?"  
"Are you alright, Dark?"  
"No." He answered deftly. With the mess of confusion in his head 'no' somewhat underplayed it. "I hope I'll be a little better by next week."  
"Well, you let me know if not okay? Take care."  
"I love you, Morgana." He couldn't get enough of just the sound of her voice. "I miss you already."

* * *

Drake returned to Hamil Corp.

Lawrence Eider approached him at the security level reception area. "Okay, Mallard." He led Drake down the corridors and opened a door for him, gesturing him in.

Drake and Eider stepped into an empty room, a vast space with nothing in it. Eider shut the door, plunging them into pitch blackness.

"Will this exercise help me to block emotions?"  
"Whose emotions, Drake? What's to say that everything you feel is a lie? What's not to say that you're just an empty sea shell on the beach of life, a forever echo of existence?"

Drake hesitated, "because I can hear you."  
"Ah, good. So then if I exist, you accept that you also exist?"  
"Yes." Drake spun around. "I can hear you circling, what are you, a shark?" Drake's insides immediately twisted as a wave of discordant emotions swept over him. "I'm sorry. Well, I did mean it, but I didn't mean it to upset you."

He hesitated, a worrisome thought occurring to him ... "Do I usually have this effect on people?"  
"You need to determine that for yourself."

* * *

"Now, I want you to think back on the people you've encountered since last night. Is it just with me, that you get this barrage of emotions?"  
"No. Some people I can handle their emotions, some people I can't."  
"It's not even that easy, because you naturally feel differently towards different people. Gosalyn, for example. Don't you think by virtue of being a father that it makes you a better person around her?"

"I've ... never been big on self-reflection."

* * *

The room slowly grew lighter, the lights became brighter.

"What do you see?"  
Drake turned around. "Wall to wall mirrors." He whispered in horror.  
"You, me, and a room full of reflective surfaces." Eider took several steps away from Drake.

"How is this possible? There's no scientific basis. Light reflects off of any object with tangibility."  
"Sure, you're tangible; you're just a little out of phase. The effect is doubled by the time it comes back from the mirror and that's just enough to put your reflection out of the realm of perception."  
"Like when the picture is out of sync with the soundtrack?"  
"Exactly."

"So I don't show up in a photograph?"  
"A photograph? Sure, you will."  
"But a camera uses mirrors." Drake gazed at the empty mirrored room.  
"It also uses time. Essentially, a photo is a visual record of a time interval compressed into one still frame. It collects the data across the interval that the shutter is open. The longer the time frame is, the better the picture."  
"I'll ..." Drake stared at the impossible empty mirror room. "Keep that in mind."

* * *

Eider pushed Drake closer to one of the mirrored walls. "It's always important to remember the empty mirrors, because they bring us back into ourselves. Who are you, Drake? Are you just adrift in the waves of the endless emotions of others, washed up on the shore empty, no mind or heart of your own?"

Eider stepped away. "Some vampires hate mirrors. It's because there's literally no image to hide the truth behind. But I think it's vitally important." Eider stepped towards the door. "Take the time you need. Come back to me when you're ready for the next lesson."

"The truth." Drake gazed at the mirror room as the door shut. Singular and alone. Alone. There were no one else's thoughts in his head for once. "Who am I?"

Drake was acutely aware, that when he left this room, he'd be inundated again. He needed to know where he began and ended so he could separate himself from the others. "I am ... Drake Mallard. I am Darkwing Duck." He began. "I am Gosalyn's father." He hesitated. "I am ..." He stood there, thinking. "Heck, he's right; who am I?"


	7. Ingredient

****

**Chapter Seven: Ingredient**

* * *

__

Sunday Morning

"Hey, dad!" Gosalyn was shaking him. "Geez, it's true; vampires really could sleep through earthquakes."

"What, what's the matter?" He looked wildly about. "There's no earthquake here!"  
"Uh, no. It's breakfast time."  
He groaned. "Gosalyn!" Drake dropped backwards onto the pillow again.  
"This is serious, dad. I want to make sure you eat the right food." She tickled him and they tumbled onto the floor.

"Okay! I'm up already." He stood up and she grabbed his hand.

* * *

A litter of mess greeted him in the kitchen.  
"Gosalyn ...?" This all signified hard work on her part.

"Here, dad." She handed him a glass of juice poured from the blending jug.  
"Oh, sweetie ..." Drake took a breath, overwhelmed with his own emotions. And it smelled so good. He drank the juice thirstily, and then gazed at his empty glass.

"That ..." He gasped. "That's fantastic, Gosalyn. It's definitely better than the super juice from the store." He put down the glass. Drake had to tear his eyes away from the rest of the juice in the jug sitting on the table in order to give his daughter a hug. "My wonderful little girl."

* * *

Preoccupied, Drake picked Gosalyn up and put her into a chair. He handed her a bowl, a spoon and the box of C_heerio's_.

Then he turned his full attention back on the fantastic juice, "Milk, dad."  
He blinked. "What, Gosalyn?"  
"Milk, you gave me everything but the milk."  
"Oh?" He backed away from the jug of juice and bumped against the fridge. That snapped him back into reality. He rubbed his face and addressed the milk issue, handed her the carton from the fridge.

Stumbling into a seat at the table, he reached for the glass and faltered; instead he snatched up the jug and drank till it was finished. He put it down, steadying himself.

Drake took a long breath, "fantastic." He looked up at her gratefully.  
"That's because I made it." She announced matter-of-factly as she poured the milk over her cereal. "People always say home cooking is the best because the extra ingredient is love. So it is true that vampires can smell and taste all the ingredients in something."

"Really? So why is that then?"  
"What are you looking at me for, dad?" He blinked.  
"I'm sorry; I was looking for the answer from you."  
"Dad, I'm only ten."  
"... I suppose ..." He cocked an eyebrow. "But you do have to have the answer. How do they depict vampires in movies, Gos?"  
"No two are the same. Sometimes they're lost souls doomed to be stuck here with the rest of us. Sometimes movies have them written in as bodily possession from a demon. Sometimes they're lonely animals who defy scientific identification. Most always they're hunting, hunted, haunted, hidden and alone."

It was a long while before Drake had thought this information through "I'm not," he smiled at her, "because I've got you, kiddo, and Morgana and Launchpad." Gosalyn smiled back.

* * *

Drake cleaned up the kitchen as Gosalyn finished her cereal. She handed him her bowl.

"Come on, dad, it's Sunday morning, you know what that means." She dashed into the hall and he followed her, watching her snatch up the flowers from the vase as she went.

Drake stepped out into the sunlight. He blinked, adjusting.  
"Bit better today, dad?"  
He walked down the path. "Yeah."  
"Good, the juice is working then."

"Gos, it was just juice. I mean, it was really nice because you made it for me, but it didn't have any mystical properties." Gosalyn laughed and didn't have an answer for him; she just took his hand and continued to walk by his side.

* * *

"Okay, here's another question." Drake asked his daughter after a long while of early Sunday morning silence and sunshine. "I've been a bit preoccupied this morning, so perhaps you could tell me where all that food came from?"  
"Launchpad dropped around this morning before heading off again. He bought it all yesterday. He suspected you wouldn't have thought of it with everything going on."  
"Gosh that's ... that's swell of him!"  
"Dad ..." Gosalyn paused, turning to him. "Oh, it's okay. You only went red for a moment."  
Drake put his hand to his chest for a moment, checking his heart rate.

"You better tell Launchpad what's actually happened to you."  
Drake considered Launchpad's recent behaviour for a long moment. "He already knows." This analysis made him frustrated. "Why didn't you guys tell me?"  
"I was just going on an educated guess, dad."

She opened the wrought iron gate with the words 'South Hill Cemetery' in the iron work. "Gee, I sure don't get to say that one a whole bunch: an 'educated guess'."  
"How does it feel?"  
"Well, you know ..." She grinned leisurely at him, "I could get used to it."

* * *

Gosalyn stepped along the familiar white gravel path, holding the flowers tightly in her hands.

She approached the plot that she'd approached countless times before.

"Hi there; it's me."  
The response she got back was the same one as every other time, being the writing on the plaques.

****

Steve and Hillary Waddlemire

Lost but not forgotten

Gosalyn arranged some of the flowers in front of the plaque and then moved on to the next one. It was nearly identical; her grandfather had purchased the plots and plaques in a single package.

****

Professor Henry Waddlemire

Loving grandfather to Gosalyn

She put the last of the flowers in front of his plaque and stepped back. "Okay, dad. Let's go home." She smiled and took his hand.

* * *

After breakfast on the second day, F.O.W.L. finally posted his bail. Steelbeak sat in the operative car, heading to a secure location where he'd be debriefed.

'Hoo, boy.' Debriefings were the worst when plans didn't come out right. Personally, professionally, Steelbeak was a successful agent; top in his field. If they didn't respect his past success, well ... they'd run out of top agents. Knowing this wasn't much consolation to him, however. He doubted whether that line of reasoning crossed their minds very frequently.

Steelbeak got out and stepped into the cave hideout hidden up in the Audubon Mountains. He looked around. This was where they'd put Taurus Bulba back together.  
"I see you've cleaned this place up, fellahs." He commented as the big screen turned on.

"Agent Steelbeak, what is your report?"  
"I reckon it's a 'no can do'. It's just a myth. Vampires cain't make other people into vampires."  
The black shadows on the screen considered this for a moment. "No, you are simply looking in the wrong place."  
"Agent Steelbeak, we have information that Xo Technology is developing high resolution spectral scan technology. This may prove useful in uncovering the secret."

"You will also need to secure another specimen. The last one will be on her guard from us."  
"Do ..." Steelbeak closed his beak, keeping his personal emotions out of the equation. "That last part ain't easy, it'll take time to even find another one, and ..."  
"This is a very important project. It will eventually succeed, and F.O.W.L. will be a step down only from the gods. S.H.U.S.H. will soon be a thing of the past, and world control will be ours. Now get to work." The shadows on the screen cackled and the screen went blank.

"Sometimes even I worry about those guys."

Steelbeak crossed his arms as his own henchmen came to stand at attention.  
"Which one should we go after first, boss?"  
"The scanner, coz it'll be easy. Xo won't know what hit 'em on a Sunday morning." He turned away from them as they hurried off. "The less time we hold the vampire, the better." He mused as he followed after them.

* * *

"Huh?" Launchpad woke up in the armchair behind DW's old study desk to find Gosalyn tapping on his shoulder. "Oh, Gos, your dad's not up here." He yawned and stretched. He noticed she had her hockey training gear on her. Her hockey stick was leaning against the other side of the table.

Daylight was streaming in from the tower windows high above them.

"What happened that night with Steelbeak?"  
"Gos, I'm not so sure I should be telling you."  
"I can't help dad properly if I don't know what's going on with him. Did he bite anyone when you were with him on Friday night?"  
"He came close, but it was like a trance and I snapped him out of it in time." Launchpad took a breath, "so it didn't happen."

He felt tears threaten behind his eyes again. "I'm sure sorry, Gos." Launchpad held out his arms for a hug.  
"No thanks, Launchpad." Gosalyn stepped back. "All dad wants to do is hug me these last couple of days. And he sniffs me a whole lot too." She rubbed the back of her neck, easing tense muscles.

"You gotta know he still loves you, whatever else that's happened to his brain. His heart's in the right place."  
"I know."  
"When a person's heart is in the right place, things turn out alright in the end. Somehow it always will. All that's needed is a bit of faith, kiddo. Hang in there."  
"Thanks, Launchpad."

She picked up his copy hat, looking him over in his duplicate Darkwing costume. "So you're standing in for him?"  
"Yup. Until DW comes right, you know I'll be right up here if you need me for anything." He saluted her, before yawning and stretching again.

"Well, good, but you should try sleeping in a proper bed. Why don't you use the one dad's got in the interior when you're too tired to get back home?"  
"That's a good idea. Thanks, Gos."  
"Launchpad, dad really appreciated the vegetables, thanks for that. And I really appreciate you being here, letting dad not worry about the job."  
"I know." Launchpad smiled quietly. "I'm only here to help." He patted her head as he stood up and wandered to the interior area. Darkwing had set it up long ago as a shelter from the sun and the cold, so that he could sleep in peace.

"Sleep well, Launchpad." Gosalyn called after him.  
"Thanks." He watched her disappear down the trap door before opening the door in front of him.


	8. Edibility

**Edibility**

* * *

_Mid Sunday Morning_.

The streets of St Canard's business district were relatively empty, the Xo Technology building stood tall, steel and blue windowed.

Gray and Stella Lite were working hard in the peace and quiet of Sunday morning.

His wife was focused on the readouts at her station. "Great! These adjustments just took nearly a third off the fluctuation rate! I knew if I got a bit of sleep it'd help."

There was a knock on the door that made both of them jump. "Who the heck is coming in here on a Sunday? I'm not paying them for it, that's for sure." Gray grumbled and went to the lab door.

It busted open.

* * *

Two eggmen pointed their weapons at them, pushing their way into the room. "Get back against the wall, both of you."

"Sure, okay, fine." Gray reached the wall and grabbed Stella into his arms.  
"That's our project!" Stella complained.  
"Oh, you can keep the project. We just want to use the technology you've built."  
"But it's not ..."  
"Take it!" Gray shouted, drowning out Stella's words of warning. "Guys like you are the reason my insurance premiums are so high!" He sighed. "Can we wait in the other room, please?"  
"Sure, we'll be done in a few minutes."

They walked into the tiny supply room.

"I'm sick of these raids." Gray complained to his wife. "These F.O.W.L. guys just think that because we're scientists ..."  
"Well, it's true, honey." Stella patted his arm. "We're scientists, not lawyers. We haven't got any bite to us."  
"If only we did, they'd think twice." Gray grumbled. "Just once, I'd like to see someone come in here and find more than they bargained for."

"Well, I know we gave them quite a surprise finding us in here." Stella laughed. "Buzz, the great Duckfly!"  
He laughed. "Call out the Duquitos to the defence!"  
"Oh, drat. If only Duckson could've gotten that invention to work."

Stella sighed. "Will we rebuild it, Gray? We were so very nearly close. Think of it, remember? It's to be a safer option than those dangerous X-ray machines."  
"I'd like to think of F.O.W.L. as our guinea pig. If they like it, we know we have a seller on our hands."  
"Hey, yeah!" Stella laughed, and then paused. "But it's still not stable, Gray."  
"Neither are the jokers that are taking it."

They turned to the opposite wall, looking out the window as a camouflaged F.O.W.L. carrier craft chopped the air noisily, hovering at their level.

"Hey! How about fish for lunch from Casey's on Lighthouse Avenue?" Gray yelled over the noise.  
"Sounds great, hon'!"

* * *

_Sunday Afternoon_

Gosalyn came up through the trap door and looked around. She frowned. When her dad woke up he'd start angsting over the meat again. He couldn't stand the smell of it, so Gosalyn decided the best solution was to get rid of the tray of meat.

"Mrs. Muddlefoot can do something with it." She grabbed it out of the fridge. "A worthy cause." She smiled and carried it next door to the Muddlefoots.

"Oh, hello, Gosalyn." Honker's mum said, smiling pleasantly down at her.  
"Mrs. Muddlefoot, um ... could you use this meat?"  
"Oh, why, how very thoughtful of you, sweetie." She took the tray from Gosalyn. "Oh, my, fancy the stove breaking." She tsked. "I hope your father gets it fixed soon. It's important for a growing girl to have her meat." Gosalyn walked in after her, watched her turn on the stove, slap on a frying pan, douse it in oil and then empty the entire tray of meat into the giant pan.

Gosalyn blinked, realising she was staring wide eyed at this spectacle.

"Now, young miss Gosalyn." Mrs. Muddlefoot busied about, preparing a salad. "You must stay and have some of this food for lunch, okay?"  
"Yes, thanks, Mrs. Muddlefoot!" The smell of the cooking meat made Gosalyn super hungry.  
"Lunch will be ready shortly. Honker's upstairs. Why don't you go fetch him, dear?"

* * *

After lunch the others moved into the television room and on it went. Gosalyn heard the news come on as she helped mister Muddlefoot with the wiping up. She put down the plate she was drying and raced in to see the screen.

"... This just in: reports on a break in at Xo Technology labs with a large experimental scanning unit reported as stolen by that Fiendish Organisation for World Larceny."

Gosalyn covered her beak, staring at the screen. "Oh no ... Dad!" She raced home.

* * *

Drake jolted awake, sitting up in bed. "What was that?" There was silence.

"What ... what time is it?" He turned his head. He'd just missed lunch.

He went to the window and opened the curtain. He fell back, then cringing, stepped forwards again. It was only a little uncomfortable, like touching the water for the first time with his foot and finding it cold. In this case, it was tingling and hot.

"Dad!" He turned and headed towards the door. Gosalyn was dashing up the stairs, tearing along the corridor. He opened the door and she stumbled inside, her hand raised to knock.

"Are you alright, sweetie?" The sight of her filled him with relief, as if he'd been unconsciously worrying about her while he'd slept. He scooped her up into his arms. "Oh, what would I do without you?"

"You keep saying that, dad." Gosalyn said, turning pensive as he held her.  
He put her down and sat down on the edge of the bed. "What's wrong?"  
"Nothing ... Well, uh, it's just a bit different." She put her hand against his chest. "You've been hugging me a lot lately."  
"You're my little girl. I love you so much. I always want you near me so I can look after you."

"You can't look after me forever, dad. Someday, you'll need to show me how to look after myself."  
"Well, that's very true. But you're already looking after me." He petted her head. He had so much more faith in the world, simply because he knew that she was a part of it. And she was a part of him too. Drake drew her back into his arms again, unable to help himself.

"You've been sleeping all day, haven't you, dad?" He let go of her and she took a step away from him.  
"Yes, you woke me up. What's wrong?"  
"Are you still alright with the sun?" He looked over at the window.  
"Yeah. It takes a bit to get used to, that's all."  
"Well, you just gotta eat more vegetables."

"Eat?" He stood up in a hurry. "What am I going to do for your dinner?"  
"Don't panic, dad, we can go out."  
"But ... we have meat in the fridge."  
"We can try meat tomorrow."  
He sighed. "Okay, Gosalyn. That makes sense."

* * *

She paused. "Besides which, we had that meat for lunch just now. Mrs. Muddlefoot cooked it up. All of it! She had this massive frying pan, and ... it's all gone."

"Well, there were five of you, right?"  
"Yes."  
"And Herb would eat twice as much as everyone else. Tank too, probably. That was smart thinking, Gos. And you got some meat into you; that's the best news. A growing girl needs her meat."

That was twice she'd heard that comment just in as many hours. "Yeah, well, no disagreement here. If I don't get enough meat, I might just turn into a growling ghoul instead."

She jumped up, making for the door. "Come on, dad, let's play cards."


	9. Concepts

**Chapter 9: Concepts**

* * *

_Monday Evening_

"No, I am not taking you to Hungry Hippo again." Drake walked down the street purposefully with Gosalyn beside him.  
"There's not a lot of choice, dad."  
"Just get me away from the smell of that grease and preservatives; I'm sure I can be better about it."

"Whoa, dad." Gosalyn stared up at the hanging sign overhead. "De'La Croissants?"  
"I just hope they serve actual food in here." He opened the door and she slipped inside in front of him.

* * *

"A table for two, please?"  
"Of course, this way." The smiling waiter escorted them to a table against the wall. "Here are the menus." He handed one to Gosalyn, and then one to Drake.

Drake took hold of the menu in the waiter's rough hands and was inundated with the smell of him. A smell of cologne and herbal shower gel mixed with moderately healthy blood and faint traces of bleach and apple.

"Thank you, Artie." Artie quietly pulled his hand away.  
"Uh, can I ... get you ... something ... to drink for a starter?"  
"Do you have apple juice?"  
"Yes, sir."  
Drake put the menu down on the table. "That would be good, thank you, Artie."

"Would you like anything, miss?"  
"Can I get a banana smoothie, please?"  
"Okay." Artie smiled and walked away. Drake looked down at the menu.

"Dad ..." Drake looked up from frowning at the menu to see Gosalyn with a look of concern on her face. "Don't eat the food service, dad."  
"I'm not ...!"  
"Da-ad!" She gritted. Drake frowned. "It crossed your face; don't tell me it didn't cross your mind."

"He's clean cut, healthy and youthful. Artie also has a girlfriend and actively looks after at least one small child with his wages from this and at least one other job where he works as a cleaner."  
"Wow. He was thinking all of that?"  
"I can smell all of that. Gos, you taught me how to do it, remember the juice you made?" Gosalyn cocked an eyebrow at him, "... and a bit of traditional deductive reasoning, of course." Gosalyn's face cleared for a moment.

She looked back down at her menu. "There's tomato soup on page 3, dad. That won't have any cereals in it."  
"You're worrying again."  
"You need to go back to Eider." She resolved. "That'll fix it."  
"Gos ..." Drake hesitated, "I was just trying to explain why I'm not interested in him."  
"Yeah, dad, that's great for Artie. But that trick won't work to everyone's advantage."  
Drake flinched, understanding her concerns now. However, that was his problem, not hers. "But at least I can be sitting here in this fancy restaurant surrounded by people and spend some quality time with you, huh?"  
"Yeah, that's pretty good."

* * *

_Later Monday Evening_

"Hello, Drake. How are you?"  
He advanced and looked down at the receptionist. "Hi, Joss."

"We're on field training tonight. Do you want to come?"  
Drake hesitated for a long moment. 'What a fantastic idea ... No!' His mind swung right around. 'What a terribly bad idea!' He swallowed his panic, realising his heart rate had shot right up. "No, no. I don't think that'd ... that's not going to work for me. Sorry."  
"You're flighty. What's the matter?"

"Hey ..." She began again in a warm, sultry voice. Joss stood up and slinked out from behind the desk. The familiar cat-like motion in which she moved ramped up his anxiety even further. "We're all family here, you know that."  
He shied away before she made physical contact. "I can't, Joss! Really, I can't. Please ..." He begged and turned away from her. "I've got to see Eider."  
There was a switch in Joss's mental state. "Well, you know where Lawrence is. If he doesn't want someone coming in, he won't let them come in." She pouted, "That's the perk of having an office."

He turned his head back towards her. The emotional feedback that came with the stilted words was a painful backlash. "I didn't mean to offend you, Joss."  
"Honey!" She smiled at him, and in that moment as they stood there, the bad vibe faded from the air between them.

"You have so much to learn, Drake. I understand that you need breathing room. Field training does get intense. You're not ready for that, and that's fine."  
"I just don't want to see ... it ... in ... me." He gestured to himself.  
" 'It'? Hmm ..." She watched him intently. "You know, your life would be so much easier if you just gave in, Drake. There is only one eventual conclusion and you know it." She moved past him, checking the magazines on the table were in a perfectly aligned stack before pausing, and began that stealthy stalking towards him again.

"Joss!" He moved away from her. She was still playing cat and mouse with him and she didn't seem to even realise it. "Stop it. You're not helping me, and it's just making me feel sick!"  
He looked away. "I need to see Eider."  
"Give it a year and you'll have it all properly sorted, I think."

Drake spun around on her. "I don't have a year. I have to be Darkwing Duck again and soon. And Darkwing Duck does not ... give in to ..." He looked away from her, summoning all his strength to fight this notion that threatened his sanity; "to that."  
"You can't fool yourself. Sure, you can ... put it off, deny it, but the closest you'll ever get in reality is Darkwing Vampire."

She went and sat back down behind the desk. "You're a predator."

"Yeah, thanks, I've gotten that far." He raised an eyebrow at her. "Right now, on the subject of mental math, the single most crucial issue ... would be to not kill anybody while I'm doing my job!" He ended in a slight squawk.  
She blinked, "Oh, my, I never even thought about that ..."  
"Jo-oss!" He sighed in exasperation, shaking his head. She meant well. That's what really mattered.

She paused in thought. "I don't know how to help you with that one, Drake. Could you ... maybe do another job instead? What about ... uh ..." She gazed at him. Joss's face went totally blank for a moment. She was unable to find an alternative. "Well, uh, we can get a careers advisor in from our school in Australia, or France. Maybe they can ..."

"Joss." Lawrence Eider appeared beside them out of thin air. "That's enough, thank you."

* * *

_A Moment Later..._

Eider led Drake down the corridors.

They stepped into the training room. Eider took out two rubber-tipped quarterstaffs from the dozen odd in the rack and handed one to Drake.  
"Drake. Right now we have to take a step back. Way back. You need to relearn your strengths and weaknesses."  
"I know what my strengths and weaknesses are. I trained for years to learn how to use them."

Eider twirled the staff in his hands, warming up. Drake checked his holding position. Eider struck, Drake caught it, and then Eider twisted about and struck again. The kinetic force rang through the metal and up through Drake's arms and he staggered back. Then with a growl he launched himself at Eider. The department head easily shouldered him over and he landed on the matted floor.

* * *

"What? What the heck!" Drake scrambled away from Eider. On hands and knees, he looked across the room to where he'd forgotten about the staff and dropped it.

"Would you like to tell me what it was that was going through your head just now?"  
Drake swallowed his mortification. "Nothing."  
"Wrong. It was emotion. All your life, you've fought by turning your inner turmoil outward. Unfortunately, emotion also makes a killer." Eider picked up Drake's staff. "Our emotions directly link back into the hunger impulse. You're no exception." Eider put the staffs back into the rack. "Have you found your reflection yet?"  
"Yes."  
"Good."  
"You're saying I need to fight cold. I've never done that very well."  
"I'm just pointing things out to you, Drake. If I could tell you the exact answer you need, well ... I could never tell you the exact answer for you."

Drake stood up. "You don't think I can do it either?"

"Oh, I'm sure you can do it, Drake. The word 'Impossible' got written out of your dictionary a long time ago."  
Drake felt his heart rate jump with the warm feeling Eider inspired. "... Thanks for the compliment."  
Eider took his shoulder. "Come on; let's check in with the skeleton crew."


	10. Steelbeak

**Four Nights: Steelbeak**

* * *

_Tuesday Afternoon_

It was after school, and Gosalyn and Honker had already spent most of their pocket money in the arcade. After an hour or so they went a few doors up to the corner store for their usual drink.

"Hi, Mister Terrance, can I get a rainbow slushy please?"  
"Can you make that two, please, sir?"  
"Sure kids." The terrier there made up the drinks and put them on the counter.  
"Thanks, Mr. Terrance." Gosalyn and Honker handed over the money and took the slushies.

"Don't forget to go home for dinner, young Miss Gosalyn."  
"Mister Terrance!" Gosalyn went red, "that was just one time! And that was ages ago. I wasn't gone that long anyway."  
"Most kids' parents just call the cops when they go missing. But when Darkwing Duck walks into your shop you tend not to forget the person he's looking for." Talking about Drake Mallard made Honker start thinking about their latest problem again as Gosalyn frowned at the shopkeeper.  
Honker was sympathetic to Gosalyn. In his opinion, Gosalyn's dad tended to overreact. And he did it just a little bit more than anyone else's parents. He answered unsteadily. "We'll be careful not to be late, sir."

Honker slurped, standing there below the edge of the counter. "So ... your dad ... is he still ... you know?"  
"Honker!" Gosalyn went red again. She glanced up at the store owner and pulled her friend out of the corner store.

"For a boy genius, you sure aren't smart sometimes." She cast her eyes around the street. "Don't you think, that if there was a cure, someone would have discovered it ... I dunno, like back in the Middle Ages? There is no cure for it, Honker." She turned from him and dashed up the street.

"Gos, wait, I'm sorry ... Gosalyn!" Honker balanced his slushy in his hands as he ran after her, brushing past some adults as he went. "Oops, sorry, sir." He mumbled and continued after his friend.

* * *

"Huh, awful upset." Terrance commented, wiping down the spotless counter. "That kid never upsets easily."

He looked up as the door jangled again.

Terrance reviewed the two men. They looked shifty; they could be shoplifters or worse ... gangsters. "What can I do for you?"  
"We want to see the owner of the business."  
"I'm the owner."  
"You're Terrance Bracken?"  
"Yes, what do you want to talk about?"

The duck pulled out a tranquiliser gun and fired. "It's not got much to do with talking, really."

Terrance collapsed to the floor. "You're ... making a mistake."  
"Your census record says you've owned this business for fifty years. You don't look a day over twenty five." The duck fired another dart at him.  
"There's ... an ex ... explan ... nation." He shut his eyes as the tranquiliser took effect.  
"Yeah, it's called ... vampire."  
The last thing he remembered was the sound of their laughter.

* * *

Gosalyn sat down on the park swing with her slushy.

"Don't cry, Gosalyn." Honker sat down on the next swing.  
She quickly brushed her tears away. "Honker, you haven't seen half as many horror movies as I have."  
"Movies are exaggerations, they rarely depict real life. That'd be too boring to watch."  
"Honker, there aren't many vampire movies that have a happy ending for the vampire."

"I guess ... people coming after them all the time isn't a good way to be. But, Gos, your dad's used to that stuff."  
"He was used to that stuff, Honker. Right now, if someone pointed a gun at him, I ... don't know what would happen." She gulped.  
"He hasn't bitten anybody yet, has he?"  
"Launchpad said it came close with Steelbeak. He said it didn't seem like dad knew what he was going to do."  
"But he knows now. That's why he's taking time off."

"Oh, Honker, what if he never gets it sorted out?"  
Honker turned away from her, not willing to enter a what-if analysis at this time of the afternoon. "Let's go home, Gosalyn. It'll be dinner soon."

* * *

"Oh. Yay." Gosalyn stared at her sneakers for a long moment very unenthused. "Dinner."

They walked home in silence. Gosalyn simply hated feeling so scared. She'd watched enough vampire movies that she knew how to kill one. The question that those movies didn't cover properly was of how to take care of a vampire. She finished the slushy as she frowned at Honker at the mailbox.  
"See you, Gos."  
"Yeah, Honk. See you tomorrow."

Gosalyn got up the steps and opened the door. The house was sparkling clean.  
"Da-ad! Have you gone mad again?" She asked in her fright.  
"No, I'm just feeling a bit better today. And, you know, I grew up with a clean house. You should learn what that's like so you can have a clean house when you grow up."

Gosalyn crossed her arms. Like she was interested in that sort of thing!  
"Oh, don't worry, I haven't touched your room, sweetie."  
Gosalyn raised an eyebrow. "Isn't it an obsessive compulsive thing, dad? How did you resist?"

Drake lowered the feather duster, thinking about this for a long moment. "Gos, when I was little, being messy just wasn't done. It wasn't an option. I let this place get so messy because my priorities are my daughter and my job. Since I'm not on a case at the moment and my daughter was out, I had a chance to clean up. So, as you can see, there's nothing obsessive about it."

They looked at each other for a long moment. Gosalyn suddenly realised there was noise in the house. She raced into the kitchen. It was the radio and the news had just started. She switched it off fast.  
"Gosalyn!"  
She grabbed the radio off the table and backed off out of his reach. "No, dad. You're not well. You shouldn't be anywhere near a radio or a TV."

"Gosalyn ..."  
"No, dad!" She clenched her beak and held it up, ready to throw it on the floor. "I'll smash it on purpose if I have to. You're not supposed to be listening to the news. You're too dangerous to be out there."  
"I know, I ..." Drake's face contorted with pain. He pulled out a chair and sank into it. "I know."  
"Launchpad can handle it, Dad. And I'm sure it's not going to be forever. I mean the ..." She stumbled on her words.

"Aren't there other vampires out there? What do they do? I mean, it's not as if there's a lot of missing people in St Canard." She put the radio on the counter and hugged him. "Come on, dad, you've got to have some idea."  
"Gosalyn, have you ever asked someone a question and gotten a blank look for an answer?"  
"Not from you, dad. You always have answers. And even when you don't know the answers you have a plan on how to get them." She paused, studying his face. He actually did look a bit lost.

"So, let's go find some answers, dad. Let's investigate vampires."  
He broke into a half smile on the word 'investigate'. "Sure, Gos. You just put your school bag away and we'll head out." He kissed her on the forehead and picked the feather duster back up off the table. As Gosalyn rounded the table she picked up the radio and took it with her.

"You don't trust me, Gos?" He called up after her as she reached the top of the stairs.  
"Oh, I trust you, dad." She called back down. "You haven't changed a single bit."

* * *

"So, here we are, as recommended by you, Gosalyn." She gazed around in amazement. It was doubly so because her father had actually taken up her suggestion. "Thirteen Double Oh Restaurant. Never open on a Monday. Now at least I understand why."

Gosalyn sat down at the little rectangular table with her father. Warm light bulbs in mock candle brass lamps along the wooden walls lit the restaurant. The internal bar area was three steps down from the outer dining area and Drake and Gosalyn sat beneath the window, a vantage of two worlds; inside and out.

A dog presently appeared at Drake's side. "Hi, I'm your waiter Staffie. Can I give you a hand with your orders?"  
"Er, yes, hi. What's on this menu that ... a vegetarian can eat?"  
"Sir, all things on the menu are 100% vegetarian available for your daughter."  
Drake looked at him, hesitated, and then seemed to change his mind about being concerned because he looked back at Gosalyn. "You hear that, kiddo?"

"Perhaps you would like to order some drinks first? May I recommend for the young lady the Berry Extreme?"  
"Uh, sure, thanks." Gosalyn blushed and turned her head to the menu again.

"Perhaps you want something not on the menu, sir?"  
"No. I do not."  
"Yes, he does." Gosalyn fixed her eyes steely on her dad. "Thanks. And I'll have the Mediterranean Special."  
"Ah, an excellent choice, miss." He took back the menus and padded off.

"Gosalyn, we don't know what's not on the menu."  
"True, but he picked the drink I wanted and I hadn't even found it yet."  
"Perhaps it wasn't such a good idea to come in here."  
"Cool off, dad. He's just getting our orders right."  
"Alright, I'll sit this one through. Not as if I have a choice if I want you to eat." He sat back with a troubled sigh.

"You think you're getting the hang of it, dad? I mean, I guess this place doesn't test you so much."  
Drake looked up and around. "That woman in the low cut cream evening dress. That man decked out in the sailor's uniform." He turned his head to view behind him. "The denim woman and the man with the leather jacket near the window."

"And me." Drake turned back to Gosalyn. He looked at her thoughtfully. "I'm alright with it, dad."  
"You've always been alright with weird stuff, Gosalyn. The weirder reality is, the more grown up you act. I wish you'd be like this at school. It has crossed my mind before to send you to a weird school just to help your grades."  
"I don't believe it. We're talking about my grades while sitting in a place this cool."

"We could go out back and sit in a dumpster to talk about it." He gritted the words through his teeth. There was that familiar spark of parental determination in his eyes. "Because that's where you'll end up if you can't pick up your studies."

Gosalyn blinked off her shock at his use of the word 'dumpster'. "No, dad. The saying is 'You'll be the one waiting tables'."  
Drake frowned. "You know, it wouldn't be such a bad career move. You'll get to meet lots of interesting people. It's active, so you'll stay reasonably fit. If you're good at it, you could get a job anywhere; travel the world and waitress in London, Paris, and Rome ..."

Gosalyn sat back. "You're not making sense dad. I don't need good grades for that."  
"It all comes down to what you want to do in your life, for how serious you need to study."  
"I want to do what you do, dad. I've told you. I don't know how many times."  
"I know kiddo." He sighed. "That's the point."

"It's boring, dad. That's all."  
"Maths is really important."  
"Oh, maths is the worst. I mean, what do I need that for, other than adding up shopping discounts and stuff?"  
"Oh, no, Gosalyn; the whole world is made of maths. It exists in a restaurant bill, in a song, in predicting the trajectories of projectile objects ..."

* * *

_Tuesday Evening_

Steelbeak had hijacked the old Sparkles Toothpaste factory and secured the security guards with rope, duct tape and with the aid of a couple handy skips in the alleyway behind the building to hide them from any passer by crime fighter, nobody would interfere.

"Pretty picture, boys." Steelbeak frowned in the office turned control booth. "What exactly am I supposed to be looking at here?" He squinted at the scanner readouts. "That don't look like nothin' I seen in no biology class."

"This is a perfect killing machine, sir."  
"I'll take your word for it. Please tell me this ..."  
"The heart action has accelerated! Geez, it's going off like a jackhammer!"  
"The scan's woken him up!" The live picture disappeared from the scanning screen.

"Evacuate!" Steelbeak ran to the fire exit. Behind him, screams started up.

* * *

Up on the roof halfway to the chopper, Steelbeak turned, watching one last straggler jamming the door shut behind him.

"Sir!" The Eggman gasped, white faced. "I saw it, I saw ... saw ..." No more words came out and his frame went from tense to slack.

"Hey, Steelbeak."

Steelbeak's feathers curled as the vampire just popped into the picture and took the halted Eggman leisurely by the shoulder. "So you wanna see a vampire?" Steelbeak froze. The vampire leaned forwards, baring his fangs before sinking them into his victim's neck. Steelbeak backed away into the doorway of the transport. It was a moment and the vampire dropped the body to the ground.

Steelbeak recovered his senses. "Quick, close the ... gyah!" Steelbeak felt just like a knife had stabbed through his chest as the vampire appeared two paces in front of him.  
"You're not the only one with a deadly bite." He took another step towards Steelbeak and a barrage of bullets hit him. Blood splattered everywhere.

The vampire dropped to the ground till the barrage stopped.  
"Oh, so you do bleed?"  
"Not for very long." The vampire stood up, and in a moment he'd snatched another eggman from the group. "Here's a bright idea, guys: don't make the vampire hungrier." He stepped away, prize in hand. "I was about to say that I'm letting you go, Steelbeak, because I don't steal other vampires' dinners. Oh, but try it again on me, and there won't be any more eggmen to hide behind when He comes after you." He chuckled.

He turned his head, leaning in towards his victim.

Steelbeak didn't need a repeat demonstration. "Dear god. Get the ship up now!"


	11. The Decoy

**Chapter Eleven: Darkwing Decoy**

* * *

_Early Wednesday Morning ..._

Launchpad was aching as he got off the rat-catcher. He straightened his back. Sometime, either the fourth or fifth arrest during the night he'd locked up a leg muscle as well. He looked down at his leg, rubbing at it. It struck him that night to night, this sort of thing either didn't happen to DW or he didn't bother mentioning it. Without DW there, Launchpad took the brunt of it each and every time.

Launchpad straightened, looking up. The big screen was blinking with a message recording.

"D'oh." He grimaced. "Just when I was looking for a shower and bed too ..." He grabbed the rungs of the ladder and hauled himself up and into the chair.

Now he was presented with another problem. "So, McQuack ... which button?" He looked around at the array of buttons. "Nah, it's just as easy as flying a plane."

Except he already knew the principles of flying a plane. He pressed a button and a news report came up.

_"Officials are stating that so far the evidence is inconclusive on the bizarre robbery earlier today over at the Xo Technology labs. Officials may be denying any leads, however unsolicited rumors over the theft of the experimental bio-scanning equipment are pointing the finger at that Fiendish Organisation for World Larceny: F.O.W.L. And in other news, The Cute Little Lost Bunnies are all set to entertain guests at the premier opening night for their latest film on Friday ..."_

"Oo, I wanna go see that."

_"... A tragic fire has erupted at the old Toothpaste Factory. Emergency workers are saying the toll stands at nine. Officials are saying that the fire is now out but inspections are still being done on the stability of the property and it may be some time before it will be decided on whether the company can resume production."_

Launchpad blinked back into reality as the weather report came on. "Oh, yes; the message." He searched for the button again. "Maybe this one?" He pressed it. J Gander Hooter's face came up on the screen.

_"Darkwing, at your earliest opportunity, I'd like you and Launchpad to come to the S.C.C. morgue tomorrow ... I have something a little ... The coroner is a little ..." He cleared his throat. "I think you need to see this for yourself."_

Launchpad considered this information. "It's not going to be fun going on my own." He sighed. "To a m-morgue." He shivered. "I think in the afternoon, while it's l-light."

* * *

_Early Wednesday Afternoon ..._

Launchpad stepped into the morgue's reception in his normal flight suit. He really didn't think Hooter or anybody would be convinced by his decoy act up close in conversation, and Launchpad was actually quite relieved to be himself for a change.

* * *

The pretty blonde duck behind the counter there greeted him. "Hi, I'm Darkwing's sidekick, Launchpad. Director Hooter said there was something he wanted us to see?"

"Oh, hello Launchpad." Doctor Sara Bellum pushed through the double doors into the lobby. "Where's Darkwing?" She asked in mild surprise.  
"He's ... otherwise engaged, at the moment; other demands." Demands; like learning how to control being a vampire. He forced a smile.

The blonde duck stepped out from behind the desk. "Well, okay then, come this way."

* * *

They followed the moderately attractive blonde duck into the spine chilling autopsy room of gloom and despair.

"So anyway, they were able to get the fire under control pretty quick. The fire was fortunately just the work of some inexperienced arson. Nobody died in the fire."  
"But it was reported nine people were dead, and uh ... in that case; why are we standing in a m-mortuary?"

"Yeah. Nine F.O.W.L. Eggmen; all exsanguinated. The case is bizarre to say the least. The Xo equipment was still intact, if only a little bit smoke damaged ..."  
"All ... sorry, what were they?" What did that 'ex' word mean?

"Could you open one up? Thanks, Sue." The blonde opened up one of the freezer containers. Launchpad held his breath and his stomach. "Have you ever seen this before, Launchpad?" She gestured him to come closer. He clenched his beak and came forwards, fighting a fainting spell. "I mean, I wouldn't have believed it myself. Fairytales don't usually crossover into the realm of hard science."

Launchpad stared at the tiny puncture wounds. "They're all like this, some of them more burnt than the others, but all of them have these two little ..."  
"Could you give me a moment?" Launchpad interrupted, asking quickly. Without waiting for an answer he sped to the door.

* * *

Launchpad stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him. He sank against the wall. After a moment to recover from his ordeal he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone.

There was a long moment.

"Gosalyn?"

_"I just got home. I dunno where he is. No, yes I do. He'll still be asleep."  
_"No, wait don't get him. You'll know the answer."  
_"Sure. How can I help you? Zombie slayage, alien dissuasion?"  
_"I have nine corpses, all of them dead from a vampire bite." He glanced around the empty corridor.  
_"... He said they weren't like that." _Gosalyn said in a deathly whisper.

"They're all Eggmen."  
_"Oh, okay." _Gosalyn said in a brighter tone. _"That's not so bad then."  
_"They're still ...!" Launchpad took a breath.  
_"Okay, sorry, I didn't mean it like that, it's still bad."_

"Don't they usually come back? They're just lying there now, but aren't they going to get up and start ..."

_"How long have they been ... like that?"  
_"Over half a day, maybe?"  
_"It usually takes twenty four hours."  
_"It didn't with DW."  
_"That was different." _She responded with conviction.

_"We should keep watch just in case."_  
"No, I think your dad won't like it if you come in here, Gosalyn." Launchpad had to be strong in the absence of DW. If anything happened to Gosalyn right now, DW would snap like a rubber band and his sanity would never come back. "I have Doctor Bellum here with me; I can get her to help me."

_"Well okay, only because I need to look after Mr. Lost in Limbo." _Thank goodness Gosalyn was smart enough to realise that ... _"You'd better give them the stakes ... of the game ... in advance. You know; to avoid ... any arguments later."  
_"W-what if they don't wake up and just stay dead?"  
_"Well, I'm sure they doubly won't mind."_

"That's what they do in the movies?"  
_"No ... Honker. In the movie they waited around till the guys go berserk. If you play the game like in the movie, you'll lose. If you want to win, you should play the game a bit smarter like I just told you. Oh, I'd better go. Good luck with your game, Honk'." _

Gosalyn hung up.

* * *

Launchpad looked at the phone. If DW knew what they were talking about, it might cause some problems. Launchpad put the phone back in his pocket and stepped into the lab.

"Launchpad? Are you alright?" Doctor Bellum asked in concern.  
"If we put stakes through them before the twenty-four hours is up, we won't have to worry about whether or not they'll be coming back."  
"Put stakes through them? Through their hearts?"  
"If they've been infected, there'll be nine Eggmen vampires on the loose in the St Canard mortuary."

"Take something that's already evil and then turn it into a vampire. That doesn't sound very good to me." Bellum grimaced. "I'll get on it without delay. Thank you, Launchpad."  
"Uh, sure. So you'll be okay here?" He questioned, hopeful of getting out of there as fast as he could.

"Uh, sorry, doctor Bellum." The pretty blonde duck interrupted them. "We don't have any stakes."  
"Pencils then." Bellum smiled. "I'll be right back from the 'Last Minute' store up the road with some nice sharp ones. Let me see you out, Launchpad."

* * *

Gosalyn hung up; certain she'd heard the sound of movement upstairs.

"I've gotta calm down." 'It isn't such a big deal. It is not such a big deal', she repeated mentally to herself. She sat down in front of the TV. She flicked channels, but her imagination was still in the morgue, seeing vampire Eggmen jumping off the autopsy tables and killing the people working in there. "Maybe homework. That's one sure way of emptying my head." Combined with the noise of the TV, that'd distract her brain. She went for her bag and sat down on the floor in front of the TV.

* * *

'It is not such a big deal.'

Drake woke up with a start and got up. He put his hand to his head as he stepped down the stairs. He paused, watching Gosalyn scribing maths answers into her book on the floor in front of the TV.

"Gosalyn?"

She looked up at him and the worry in her increased even as he thought any more worry couldn't be possible. "Hey, dad." She came up and gave him a quick hug. "So, what are we going to do for dinner?"  
"Well ... Why not just vegetable kebabs for tonight?"  
"That sounds great, dad." There was a slither of relief that lightened the worry gloom around her.

"I'm sorry this has happened. But ... Please don't worry about me, kiddo. I'll sort it out."  
"Sure, dad, I just don't want you doing anything stupid in the meantime."  
"Your faith in me is touching! I can see why you're worried so much. And ..." Why not? "What is it that's 'not such a big deal', anyway?"

Gosalyn gaped at him. "Dad, that's really impersonal."

"You said it so loud you woke me up."  
"Dad, I didn't say it at all. I was talking on the phone, but that is one sentence I know I didn't say out loud."

Drake rubbed his head. "That explains the weirdness." He went into the kitchen and set about to make vegetable themed kebabs.

* * *

_Thursday Night ..._

"I am the terror that flaps in the night!"

"I hate it when that happens." The alarms were sounding, the police would be here any minute anyway, but this interruption really put a kink in Reginald Bushroot's garden hose.

"I am the uh ... broken wick on the fireworks of crime."

"Wait a second ..."

"I am Darkwing Duck."

"Oh! You are so not Darkwing Duck!" Reginald put down the sack and put his leafy hands to the place his hips would be.  
"What? I mean ... why?"  
"You just don't sound like him."  
"Nobody else has noticed."  
"Well, it's probably lucky for you then that nobody else is a plant like me." Reginald turned his head, mentally calling for backup. He'd need it shortly when the police got here. "I think a lot of people are under the misconception that because plants don't have ears that they can't hear you."

"Well, don't be silly, I know you can hear me."  
"I mean any plant. They just don't hear you the way you'd expect, for example ..." Reginald stepped up next to the actor, listening in properly to his delta waves; "you're scared. Not just for right now; you've been like that for days on end." The plant-duck stepped away and picked up his loot bag.  
"Six nights. It was last Friday night."

The decoy paused. "So ... what does he sound like then?"  
Reginald shrugged, "you want me to give you a single word to describe Darkwing Duck? Terrifying, I guess. If it wasn't for the little gir-ah, I mean; his brain just radiates one big thick cloud of 'I'm gonna stop you'."

The police siren wailed. "That's my cue."  
"No, you don't!" The actor raised the gas gun, and Reginald pointed up at his friend and backup that was standing to attention beside them now. The actor looked up, and on Reginald's cue the elm tree picked the caped double up by the foot. "Hey!"  
Reginald turned away, watching the police cars pull up.  
The actor fired the gas gun at him, and a net closed around him. "Ack." Reginald Bushroot struggled for a moment.

* * *

"You're under arrest, Bushroot."  
"I don't think so, officer." He pointed up as the elm tree dropped 'Darkwing Duck' and picked up the net with Reginald and his loot all in the one package.

The tree swept the police officers aside and strode off, bagged villain swinging from a branch.

The police officers got back up on their feet, looking around. "Darkwing Duck?" But the vigilante was gone too.


	12. Love Forever After

**One Week - Love Forever After**

* * *

The alarm went off. "What, what?" Drake snapped awake. He pressed the button on the clock. "It's Friday."

"... Friday afternoon", he amended, looking at the clock.

'... Not again ...' It would be dinner time soon enough and that meant another internal battle.

* * *

Once again Drake went down the supermarket aisle and stared at the meat in the cold storage section. He reached out once, twice.

"Dead meat." He shuddered, his mind going back along the food production process; from the packet to the butcher, from the butcher to the refrigeration truck. From the refrigeration truck to the slaughterhouse from the slaughterhouse to the cattle yards and finally back to the paddocks.

"I can't do it!" He felt incredibly sick. It was a perfectly rational process, but far too long for a vampire.

Drake turned away and sank to the floor. "I can't handle the smell." He shut his eyes. It had to be fresh. Really fresh. Freshly dead. Still alive would be even better, healthy would be the best ... He clenched his fists against the surge of hunger. "No!" He pulled himself together and got away from the dead meat.

* * *

"Hi, dad!" Gosalyn closed the front door behind her.

Drake stood up from the kitchen table. "Hi, sweetie." He hugged her, relieved to have something other than the internal war to focus his attention on for a while.

"What's for dinner?"  
He hesitated. "It'll be a while." He spied the cookie jar and offered it to her.  
"Okay ... what's wrong?" Gosalyn took a biscuit. "We can always eat out again."  
"No, we cannot." He replaced the jar on the sideboard. "You can't keep eating garbage." Oh, ha, what had he just given her? He mentally slapped himself.  
"De'La Croissant serves real food."

"... You pay for it, you certainly would hope so ..." Drake commented to himself. He had already resolved a course of action, however. "Gosalyn, I want to take you somewhere."

"Sure, okay, dad. You need to take it easy, though. Please." She followed him to the front door.  
He took the flowers out of the vase on the hall stand. "Could you hold these for me please, honey?"  
"Are we going to the cemetery, dad? It's not a Sunday."  
"Just hold onto them, sweetie."

They went out of the house to the garage and got into the station wagon.

* * *

It was a while as Drake drove along the suburban streets. He usually had the right words to say, but today, he struggled to begin.

"Gosalyn, I ... I was younger than you." He sighed, staring at the road. "It's true; I was younger. I was maybe about seven or eight."  
"It's okay, dad." She patted his arm. He missed a turn and kept going straight. "Aren't we going to the South Hill cemetery?"  
"Not today, Gos."

* * *

Gosalyn looked up ahead as Drake parked the car in the old suburban Commemoration cemetery's car park near Morgana's place. He got out of the car and came around, taking her hand. They went up long rows of plaques and Gosalyn glanced at the different sorts of headstones and the flowers that added some colour to the sombre atmosphere. Then they came to a section of particularly large headstones.

"... Must've been rich ..." Her eyes fell on a large grey black marble one in the shape of an arch. "Nice." Then she realised that her father had stopped in front of it.

For the first time, Gosalyn read the inscriptions.

**In Loving Memory**

**Drake Mallard Snr.**

**Devoted Husband, Father & Fire-fighter**

The minute picture in the middle showed a helmet and crossed axes.

Beside it, read:

**Love Forever After**

**Eleanor Mallard.**

**Loving Mother, Wife.**

"There's nine years between them."

"... Mum was never well after he died." His voice sounded choked.

"Was it after we went back into the past that he died?"  
"Gosalyn, I told you, I don't remember the incident at Royal Records. I was too young."

They stood in an uneasy silence.

* * *

"I have a problem, Gosalyn." He admitted in uncharacteristic self-analysis. "I don't like you handling knives. I don't want you anywhere near the stove, much less the oven. I don't want you with me at work. All because it's too dangerous."

Gosalyn took the weathered flowers from the holder and replaced them with the fresh ones in her hand. Realising there was a problem was the first step to fixing a problem. All in all, this was a really good sign. If she said nothing, which actually took a lot of work, he might just do something and fix the problem.

"It's a lot of responsibility on you to be careful, and I've never wanted to burden you with it."  
"I'm not so little, dad."  
"Well, maybe sometimes." He half agreed. "You are right really though. And how hypocritical am I, because I was younger when I started cooking."

"I know how to be careful, dad."  
"The issue is: can you remember it? Every time? It has to be every time, Gos. Because that one time you forget to be careful, I might not be anywhere nearby, and that'll be it for you."  
"I can do it, dad. I can cook."  
He hugged her.

He sighed, "I can still teach you. Fortunately I haven't lost my mind in all of this." He looked up at the names on the grave stones for a long moment as if communing. "Someone helped me back then too." He stepped back from the grave stone and took Gosalyn's hand. "There were two people I trusted when I was growing up. They helped me look after myself and my mother. If it wasn't for Mrs. S, I couldn't have stayed in the Junior Woodchucks."

"Are they still around?" Gosalyn said, mentally sparking at this new information. "We should go see them."  
"What would that do, Gosalyn?"  
Gosalyn looked back at the headstone. "I dunno; maybe you could make peace?"  
"I'm undead, not dead-dead!" Drake snarked.  
"But isn't that what Eider was telling you to do with the mirrors, dad?"  
"I still don't get most anything of what Eider's trying to tell me to do."

"Alright, then I'm telling you to do it. You remember these people? So when was the last time you spoke to them?" Gosalyn turned and strode towards the exit of the cemetery, making sure he couldn't fob off just any old answer.

* * *

Drake walked over and stared at Gosalyn, sitting back in the car waiting for him. Her whole mood had changed again, as if those few free moments on her trip back to the car had flicked a switch in her brain. Is this what the concept 'changing minds' meant? He got back into the car, and looked at her again. What had happened in her head since the discussion at the graveside that she would now be increasingly upset?  
"What's wrong, Gosalyn?"

"What happened to your mum, dad? What sort of an illness did the doctors say she died of? You could die of it too and you never told me."  
"Whoa! Gos!" He started the car. He could hear her stewing beside him as he drove through the night-time streets of suburbia. Her delta waves flittered from worry to disappointment to hurt.

"My mother got sick because dad died." He confessed as he drove past the next suburb, turning into an older suburb. "Not much in the way of explanations, is it, Gosalyn?"  
"No, it doesn't sound like you, dad. You always want logical explanations. You check the bathtub with your microscope when you're cleaning it."  
"No, I do not!"  
Gosalyn faced forwards and said nothing.

"You're saying your mother died of a broken heart."  
"I believe it. When you love someone, I mean really. If you're not strong enough, losing them could kill you. I watched it happen to my mother."

Gosalyn was thoughtful on this. "Dad, you went crazy in that alternate universe when I got caught on Quackerjack's time top and wasn't there."

Drake gripped the steering wheel tightly. "It just proves that I really am not strong enough to lose you, sweetie."

"Well, I don't plan on getting lost."  
"I'm glad." He said quietly. "I'm very glad."


	13. No Cats or Pot Plants

_A/N: Thank you Led Zeppelin for the beautiful _Stairway to Heaven

* * *

**No Cats or Pot Plants**

* * *

They pulled up in front of an ancient wooden house. "Awesome, this is like trick or treat!" Gosalyn jumped out of the car. "Without the pumpkins."

"You'll have to wait a few months for that one yet." Some pigeons startled from the path in front of Gosalyn as they made their way along the driveway.  
"Wow, these bushes are really overgrown." Gosalyn ducked underneath a large outcropping.  
"Yeah, she gave the Falcon to her son and catches the bus in to work so she doesn't use the driveway so much. Still, maybe we could offer to do some pruning ..."

Gosalyn looked around at the massive front yard. In the dark, it was just a jangle of bushy nightmares, cooing birds, croaking frogs and buzzing insects. "Can you hear anything dad?"  
"Like what, sweetie?"  
"Like Bi-ig Webfoot?" She gestured widely with her arms.  
"No." Drake chuckled. "A raccoon nest, three snakes in their dens, ten rodent burrows, a few pigeons, a couple parrots and a family of bats are roosting in that tree right over there." He pointed.

"Keen gear, can you talk to them?"  
"I ... Gosalyn, stop trying to distract me!"  
"Sorry, dad." Gosalyn continued along the driveway. She paused. "But can you?"  
"Little miss." He steeled his mind against her enthusiasm. "Maybe later I could try." He stepped up onto the porch.

"Huh, there're no pot plants."  
"What makes you think of pot plants?"  
"Well, a little old lady that lives in a great big house all alone after the family leaves, and pot plants to grow the herbs she cooks with. And she always makes the best food, because she puts so much time and effort into it."

"I see; you have Mrs. S completely figured out. Make sure you wipe your feet, kiddo." She looked down at the mat; it said 'Welcome' in bright red letters. He raised his hand to the doorbell.  
"Is she home?"  
He hesitated on the bell with her question. "Yes, she's home." He pressed the button.

The door opened a crack, the protective chain stretched across the gap.  
"Hi, Mrs. S."

"Holy plutonium!"

The door slammed shut on them.

* * *

"O-okay ..."

Gosalyn mused quietly, "I change my mind. Crazy old cat lady."  
"No cats." He countered as the door chain was undone.

The door opened.  
"If it isn't Drake Mallard!"  
"Mrs. S, I'd like you to meet my daughter, Gosalyn. Gosalyn, I'd like you to meet Mrs. Sylvia Sputterspark."  
"Why, hello, there!" She opened the door wider for them to enter, glancing at Gosalyn and then grinning at Drake. "Come inside."

"Thank you." Drake nodded reverently to her.  
Gosalyn wiped her feet after her father as they stepped into the ancient house.

Gosalyn sniffed. "Something's burning, dad!"  
"It's okay, Gos, it's okay." He pulled her out of action and back to his side. The smoke alarm went off over their heads.

"Oh, well, what a good sense of smell you have young lady ..." As the alarm blared painfully Mrs. S calmly went over to the window and opened it up, then she picked up a wooden curtain rod from the windowsill and walked into the centre of the room with it.

Drake backed hastily away. "Tsk, what do you think I'm going to do?" She raised the end and turned off the alarm. "Fancy being shy of a bit of wood."

"I'll put that away for you, Mrs. S." Drake took the stick and Mrs. S left the room. "Go with her, Gos."

* * *

"I'm sorry, I didn't make much food."  
Drake joined them into the kitchen. "Oh, I don't want anything anyway, thanks, I'm not hungry."  
"Tsk, you haven't changed a bit, Drakey."

"You know, I knew your father since he was just a baby."  
Gosalyn grinned as Mrs. Sputterspark gave her a portion of the charcoaled food.  
"I was friends with his mother since ... well, since we were in primary school."

"I'm very pleased to meet you, Mrs. S. But really, I don't want to take any of your food."  
"Nonsense! A growing child like you? You haven't had dinner yet, have you? So eat."

"We were on our way home, but Gosalyn suggested we visit while I was remembering things."  
"Oh, you were visiting your parents, were you?"  
"I was ... You're right, Mrs. S. We were."

"Why don't you make some tea, deary?"  
Drake quickly obliged.

"I was just telling Gosalyn on how you helped me with mum all those years."  
"Yes, poor Eleanor."

"Could you tell me about her, Mrs. S?" Gosalyn piped up.  
"Hmm, Eleanor, Eleanor." She gazed at Gosalyn. "I say, you don't look much like her."  
"I'm adopted."  
"Oh. Of course. You had me fooled with everything else." Gosalyn raised an eyebrow. "Well, you remind me so much of Drakey when he was your age. Full of spirit."

"Yep, yep." Drake smiled at Gosalyn proudly. "That's my girl."

* * *

The food was very much a charcoal disintegration on the plate, but there wasn't much of it. Her father handed her a cup of milky tea and Gosalyn swallowed thirstily.

"I'll clean up." Drake picked up the emptied plates.  
"Oh, thank you."  
"Could you tell me more about Eleanor Mallard?"  
"Oh, sweetie, my memory comes and goes."  
"Don't you have a box, Mrs. S?" Drake prompted.  
"A box?" She sat back. "A box ... Great solar spheres!" Sylvia shook herself. "I've even got pictures."

"Oh, can we, dad?"  
"Sure."  
Sylvia ruffled the feathers on Drake's head as she left the room. "It always scared me what such good boys you two insisted on being."

"... I think she's forgotten about all the science experiments ..." Drake mused.

* * *

It was a moment and Sylvia was back with a tattered hatbox.

"What happened to the hat that was in the box?" Gosalyn asked as she peered in at all the papers.  
"Grandmama's Sunday hat?" Sylvia tapped her nose in thought. "Aha, I know that one!" She suddenly sprinted out of the room and Gosalyn chased after the middle aged woman, astonished at how spry she was.

"Granddaddy!" Sylvia pointed to the large grandfather clock. "Grandmama was spitting mad, when dada pulled her favourite Sunday hat apart to fix the clock." She giggled. "Mama married a Sputterspark and that was that for the hat."

The clock chimed an odd tune.  
It took Gosalyn a moment. "Led Zeppelin? Your father made a hundred year old clock play _Stairway to Heaven_?" She giggled.

"It's a lot older than that, sweetie. But you haven't seen my less-water washing machine. I invented that one. No more wasting water. By the time it comes out, it's dry, so you won't ..." She glanced at them. "Sorry. I have a habit of ranting a bit." She turned away instantly withdrawn and headed into the kitchen.

"So she really is Megavolt's mum?"  
Drake stared grimly back at her in answer.  
"Mrs. S." Gosalyn raced to the kitchen, only stopped short as Sylvia was coming out with the hat box. Drake scooped Gosalyn up out of the way and sat down beside Sylvia.

"Ah, well. Eleanor was my best friend for forever. She was Miss Eleanor Silverlight." Mrs. S said dramatically, showing them a newspaper clipping of a neon billboard and a bunch of well dressed people. "Silverlight was her name, actress was her game." Sylvia sat down. "Singer, actress, comedian, and a stellar musician, too, if she couldn't get a part in a play, she still had some other gig to fall on. Her daddy got her a grand piano; you remember that one, Drake?" He nodded to her. "She did recitals, played concertos and ballads. I went to see her once at the Jazz club. What a crowd pleaser! She loved her audience. That club is where she met your father, Drake. She told me about ten home comers fresh out of the war zone at Ducklehoff, sitting around the front tables. And there he was in the middle of them."

"How could she pick one duck out of a whole crowd?" Gosalyn asked.  
"Easily darling; he was the only one drinking a milkshake."

She pulled out another photo. "There you two are." She turned the photo to check the back. "Ten years old." She handed the photo to Gosalyn.  
"You've got a black eye, dad."  
"Oh, I remember; that was Finnigan. That kid had a lot of problems."

"He was the reason you and Elmo became friends as I recall. Elmo played Doctor Watson. He remembered all his lines too. What wonderful times it was back then."

"What was Elmo's dad like?" Gosalyn asked.  
"Elmo's never met his father."  
"Okay, but what was he like?"  
"Consequences turned inconsequential." Gosalyn wasn't sure if that abstract thought resembled an answer.

"For ten years, Elmo's damned it all." Sylvia picked up the remote control from the coffee table. She pressed a button and a jukebox in the corner turned on, the machine picked up an ancient record and placed it on the turntable. Classical music began to play. It suddenly struck Gosalyn that for all the technological genius and ingenuity, Sylvia didn't appear to own a television set.

"Last Christmas I gave him a surge protected cell phone. This way I might get him home for thanksgiving if he's not too busy getting locked up again." She tidied up the pictures and letters into the hat box. "A lot of mothers sit down in their living rooms wondering where they went wrong when their sons are in jail. I don't because I know exactly what went wrong; a cheerleader, a football player and a wad of duct tape."

"It's strange how disasters always come in threes like that." Drake sat back in the chair. "There was a time that I trusted him."

* * *

Gosalyn felt her father's breathing change. 'What, dad?' She was newly attentive to the conversation. Hang where the TV was hiding.

"Drake, oh, Drake. Now you're back, won't you ... Oh, he might just listen to you."  
"I think it might take a bit more than that, I'm afraid."  
"But now you're here, you'll help, won't you?"

Gosalyn felt his body grow tense. "I'm not sure what you think I can do."  
"Anything, try anything. If there was just ... enough motivation to become a reasonable person again, he'd go for it."

* * *

There was a long moment as Gosalyn, sitting on her dad's lap, felt him physically calming down.

"Hmm. One would need to start by removing the motivating factor to be an unreasonable person ..."  
"Drake, oh, Drake, you've been there too." Tears were in her eyes. "When your mama finally died, there was scarcely any sense left in your head. But you're alright now. Whatever you got up to overseas, you can help him to do."  
"Mrs. S! I spent five years of my life to learn all that."  
"So? You're like the prototype; you can give him the schematics."

"I'm not certain about my own success."  
"You're alright, dad." Gosalyn declared.  
"Gosalyn ..." He sighed. "Mrs. S. It might take some time; I have a lot of problems to work through myself."

"But you will try? Oh, thank the constellations! I'm so glad." She reached over Gosalyn and hugged his neck. "Such a good boy. You were always there for him in primary school, and now you're back again. Brave little Drakey. No, that's not right. Oh, what was it that Elmo called you? Oh yes ... D and E. That's it." She sat back, sighing. "Composites for an algebraic equation. It would be nice to have him over for Thanksgiving."

"Well, that gives me a few months to work with." Drake toyed with Gosalyn's pigtails absent-mindedly.

"Anyway!"  
Gosalyn jumped in shock.  
"We'd better get home, I'm sure you had other plans for your night. It was very nice to catch up with you, Mrs. S. And I can't thank you enough for sharing your dinner with Gosalyn."

"Thank you for coming, darling. Oh, and it was very lovely to meet you, Gosalyn. It would be nice for you to come by again."  
"Oh, I'm sure we will." Gosalyn grinned up at her.  
Sylvia petted Gosalyn's head.

"Don't stay away again, Drake."  
He gave her a hug. "That I can definitely promise."


	14. Sweet Violets

____

____

_A/N: Because I love vampires, I've decided to unbury something for Valentines. _

_Completely within this chapter's context, here is the chorus to the ancient _"Sweet Violets"_song for you. I don't know who wrote it, but odds are your great grandparents know all the words to this one. The chorus is the only innocent part to the song, so you'll have to _Google _it to find out the verses. For those of you who know this one, it's tricky and underhanded and that makes it one of my favourites._

A/N: Please forgive the visual yuck, the Edit/Preview function is not happening for me.

A/N: Also for anyone(?) who started reading this at chapter one and kept on reading up to this point and didn't skip anything, this is the last non-action chapter. These 'Talkies' were added under the advice from my entire readership of two that a story isn't just about action.

___Thank you Irual. I know you've been waiting for a chapter dedicated to Morgana and Drake. _

___And thank you, Joey The Ripper. I promise that despite this sudden romantic departure I will kill something within the next couple of chapters, so breathe easy, my friend._

_______Please Review! _

_

* * *

_

_"Swee-t Vi-o-lets_  
_Swee-ter than the roses_  
_Covered all over from head to toe_  
_Covered all over with swee-t v-i-o-lets"_

* * *

**Adapting **

* * *

Sunday Afternoon

"Not everything in life is about food, dad."  
Drake looked over from the mirror to see Gosalyn standing in the doorway. She came in and sat on the edge of the bed facing the mirror. He dropped down next to her, hugged her, and then went back to staring into the mirror.

But watching Gosalyn's reflection as she sat directly beside him was terribly distracting. "I know, Gosalyn, it's just hard not to think of it."  
"So don't go to a restaurant with Morgana. Take her, I dunno. What do those people in romance movies do? I've only ever watched you guys."  
"I'm not any better, really," Drake admitted, "I do know this one romance story, though; they fall in love, do everything they can to be together and then end up killing themselves because they each think the other one is dead."  
"Geez, dad, and you're worried about me watching Attack of the Mutant Zombie Slu-ug Monsters?" She crossed her arms. "There's got to be a better one than that."  
"I'm sorry, Gos. I stopped at Shakespeare."

She tapped her beak, wracking her brain. "In The Martian Thing, the Thing took Kate to a lookout over the Martian landscape. They were hiding out from the tourists, but it was still kinda romantic."  
Drake closed an eye. "Gos, sometimes I don't know if there's seventeen years between us or seventeen parsecs."  
"The Martian Thing is a classic!"  
"I'm sure, sweetie." He didn't understand it, but those old horror movies were very important to his daughter. "Maybe we could watch it together tomorrow night and then I can see what you're on about."

She beamed happily at him. "Deal!" She announced in excitement.  
"After homework ... And I want it done properly, little missy."  
She pursed her beak but didn't have time for a rebuttal before he squeezed her shoulder and stood up.  
"I'll wear my purple suit" was his long deliberated decision.  
"You're not going as Darkwing Duck?"  
"I can't; not yet." He shuffled her towards the door.  
"Alright, dad. Just promise me you'll try to take it easy."

"Gosalyn!" He closed the door behind her, shaking his head.

* * *

Sunday Evening

Drake knocked on Morgana's door. He was so excited to see her that his heart rate had sped up. His entire body trembled with anticipation, and then she opened the door.

"Oh, Morgana." A sense of relief filled him. Oh, heaven, like an empty space in his head now filled in. "I've missed you so much." Taking her arm, he was surrounded with her smell; all of spice and sweetness. "You look beautiful."  
"I was thinking of a place for dinner. It's nearby. I think you'll like it. Cafe Le'Qua."  
"I don't mind any place, so long as I'm with you, my love." It was as if everything was complete and made sense with her by his side as they walked along the quiet streets.

* * *

The front door was a honey coloured wood and four little glass panes set into the woodwork on the top part of it.

Drake opened the door for her and let Morgana into the restaurant. It was crowded inside, and Morgana swerved to avoid colliding with a waitress. The place was quaint. The setting comprised of wooden booths and the decor was ordinary and normal. For sure, it was a far cry from Morgana's typical taste in things.

"Inside or out?" The waiter asked. Morgana turned to Drake as people continued to rush by.  
"Drake?"  
"Yes, Morgana?" He turned his blue eyes on her. "It's a bit crowded in here for a Sunday, isn't it?"  
"Outside, then." Morgana answered the attendant, interpreting Drake's comment.  
"Right this way, ma'am."

* * *

Candles glowed in Chinese paper lanterns strung up all about the outdoor eating area. This was much better, Morgana approved, with the cool night air free to breeze gently around them. The unfocused state of her boyfriend's aura confused and troubled her slightly. Being inside the restaurant had accentuated the problem.

He walked out behind her. As she sat down at the table he pushed her chair in for her. At least he was acting in much the same way. "Drake, are you alright?"  
He paused at her side. "How could I not be alright when I'm with you?" He asked, taking her fingers to his beak, feathering kisses. "You're like heaven, Morgana."

"You just seemed a little distracted while we were in there."  
"Oh, well, I've been like that a lot lately." He came around and sat down in front of her. To the left, people were ordering drinks and to the right a waiter was serving food. Morgana picked up the menu. This was a very Normal restaurant, so she wasn't too sure of what was even on the menu. Listing ingredients gave her hopefully an idea of what she'd be actually getting. All she knew was that this was a popular place.

She'd only gotten to the second page when the section's waitress was at their elbow. "Ready to order?" The waitress asked in a rushed voice. Morgana looked up.  
Drake was staring at the waitress with a very strange look on his face. "Have you got anything fresh?" He asked.  
"Sir," the woman huffed, "you can be sure that we only use the freshest ingredients."

"Yeah, okay, that sounds good, I'll get that."  
"I beg your pardon, sir?"  
"Oh," He cleared his throat, averting his eyes from her, "you were being sarcastic." He stared back at the menu. "Have you got anything for a vegetarian, then?"  
"Sure, you can have your choice of tofu salad, pumpkin pie or spinach and ricotta pasta."  
"Okay ... I'll ... have tomato juice then, thanks."

"Okay, sure." She wrote it down. "And for your main, sir?"  
"It's Drake M-Ma-uh ... I mean; I beg your pardon?"  
"No, 'main' as in 'what're you going to eat?' Sir."  
"Uh, sorry, of course. Morgana, what would you like?"  
The waitress turned her attention on Morgana, holding in a breath of overworked frustration. "For you, ma'am?"  
Morgana frowned at Drake. "I'll try the tofu salad. And a glass of Shiraz."  
"Tofu and Shiraz, okay. You, sir?"

"The juice will be fine, thanks."  
"You're not going to order any food, sir?"  
"No, thank you, Mary; that's a little too close for ... I ... I'm on a diet."  
"You don't want anything? Okay, sir." She turned around and hurried off.

"Drake you ..."  
"I really apologise, Morgana, I can't ..." he pulled a face, "I can't sit with it in front of me. All around me is fine, I can manage that."  
"Not at all? But ... but this is Normal food! I thought you'd like this."  
"Thank you. That's so incredibly thoughtful, Morgana." He leaned forward, gazing into her eyes again.

She sighed, looking away unhappily.  
"I'm fine, Morgana. And I don't have anything in front of me, so I won't have any problem."  
"I suppose it must be me."  
He blinked.  
"We've been dating for months now. It can't be food."  
"You, Morgana?" He sighed contentedly. "When you're so close to me, I kind of forget a little about the rest of the world. Like all the air fills the room, and all the chairs and tables are gone." He sat back, breaking the poetry with: "the juice will do just fine."

While Drake was 'doing just fine', Morgana on the other hand had a new problem that she'd never even considered before now. "How do you know her name's Mary? I didn't see a nametag and she didn't mention her name."  
He blinked his eyes back into focus, frowning in confusion. "Which Mary?" He looked around at the people at the other tables. "The woman at table '36'?"

"No, the waitress ..." Morgana looked over at table 36, getting more suspicious by the moment. With the suspicion came an associated unpleasant feeling in her stomach and a tightening in her chest.  
"Oh, yes, her. She was very annoyed at me for asking about how fresh the food was." Morgana looked again at the woman on table '36'. What was her likely story? "Morgana, what's wrong? What have I said to upset you?"  
"How do you know '36' is a Mary? Have you met her before too?"

"I haven't met either of them before." He frowned, concentrating on their fellow customer. "Definitely interstate by the Texan accent, part of the wedding group, maybe a cousin of the bride by the genetic prox ... imity." He closed his beak, realising he was only making her more upset.  
"How many women have you dated before me?"  
Drake coughed. "Dated? I ..." He stumbled over his words. "There are things that ... in order for me to ... I do my job, Morgana, that's all! I certainly wouldn't use the word 'girlfriend'. I wouldn't call ... I've never felt ... for anyone the way I ..." He sighed. "I'm not lying, Morgana. If it was all just an act with you, would I really mess up so much all the time? I wish I had the perfect thing to say to you all the time." He covered his eyes for a moment.

"Well, you could start with being honest and tell me about them."  
"I played the lead in Romeo and Juliet for school." Morgana cocked an eyebrow in disbelief. "And then there was this one criminal that wouldn't answer any of my questions unless I was on a date with her just so she could try to distract me anyway. That was an excruciating experience that I hope I'll never need to do again." He shuddered.

A small smile escaped onto Morgana's beak. "Oh, Drake."  
"Morg ..."

* * *

The waitress came around with the wine, the tomato juice.  
Drake blinked up at her. "Thank you, Mary. I'm sorry I was being so difficult earlier when you had so many orders to take."  
Mary blinked, and then smiled. "That's okay. I'm sorry for being short with you."  
She disappeared back into the restaurant.  
Drake sighed, rubbing his head. "Oh, that's a relief."

Drake glanced around at their fellow patrons as Morgana took a sip of her wine. "Fancy all these people here celebrating a wedding on a Sunday. Where do they come from? Listen to that man behind me. That is a flawless Louisianan accent. All these accents. I wonder how Jambalaya Jake and his Cajun alligator are doing." He turned back to her, "so we were talking about past relationships. I'm pretty sure that you've had boyfriends before me. What were they like?"

Morgana sat back, sighing, thinking back for the answer to that one. "... I've had some bad luck ..."

"Are they still alive? I beg your pardon!" He squawked, hearing the words come out of his mouth. "I wasn't ... I just meant that ... if they are still alive ... I ..." He grabbed his glass of juice and hesitated for a lengthy moment before taking a calculated swig of it. Morgana was still holding her temper from exploding at him, waiting for an explanation. It had taken her months of practice not to jump every time he said or did something insulting. To be honest, she wasn't sure whether the number of insults had decreased or if she was just getting used to them.

"I'm sure you dealt with the situation adequately at the time and it certainly doesn't require my ... attention." He frowned, staring at his glass of tomato juice.  
"Are you alright, Dark?" He shook his head. His eyes returned to hers, but his aura had shifted to work mode.

"Morgana, when I first met you, whatever that bad luck was, it had you putting all your incredible power and abilities into ..." He shook his head, "I'm glad I could help you out of that head space. You're so much healthier now. And no, you are most certainly not a criminal anymore. And ..." He grinned like a cat that had swallowed a canary. "They are already incredibly unlucky just to have lost you."

* * *

They finally got free of the loud atmosphere of the restaurant and Drake took Morgana for a walk through the Commemoration cemetery.

"Morgana, I need to tell you what's happened to me."  
"You're still not feeling well, I take it?"  
"Well, actually I'm feeling much ..." He paused, turning away. "Am I better? I'm getting used to the idea, anyway. Morgana ..." Drake turned to face her again, "I've been turned into a vampire."

"A ... a vampire?" Morgana could hear the shock in her voice. She frowned as her evening of confusion took at turn to frustration. 'I wish he told me things sooner. I wouldn't get half so upset.' "Drake, this is why you put off last Sunday's date?"  
"I did tell you; I said I was sick."  
"You've been turned into a vampire; you're not going to get any better."

* * *

Drake's heart missed a beat. Given the time interval between them, it was quite a painful experience. "I should see you home, Morgana." He sighed as she watched him warily, and he knew by her steadfast stance that she was not about to go anywhere. Honest? Morgana was definitely being honest. Condemning? Maybe; it certainly felt that way to him, all the more so because it was probably justified.  
"I'm sorry I didn't explain it properly on the phone. I just find it ..." He shuddered.

"We all have negative urges, Dark. This situation has just forced you to face them."  
"I agree, but it's a bit more complicated for me, Morg." He looked at his parent's large marble arch shaped headstone in front of them. "I have to account for what I do. I need to ... take ... out an insurance policy against myself! Of course, why didn't I think of that before?"  
"That doesn't sound like something I can help you with."  
"Are you kidding?" He said, feeling enthusiastic for the first time in over a week. "You've already helped me think of it!" He beamed at her. "A safety net. I just need the right ... backup! Yes, of course!" He had an idea, soon enough he'd have a plan. The future seemed manageable again.

"Backup?" Morgana repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Dark, are you aware that backup is always the last thing you think of?"  
The emotions that came with her words made his thoughts come screeching to a U turn. 'Backup ...' His heart rate sped up. 'As in support in a relationship, as in ... between Morgana and me.'

In this moment Drake noticed that with the increase in his heart rate, his brain began working much quicker. With a feeling of exaltation, he knew the right answer to give to her. "Then I guess all this will give me plenty of practice with putting the idea ... of backup ... first for a change."  
"I'm glad to hear that." The severity in her mental expression gave out to optimism and contentedness.  
'Oh, gosh.' Drake felt his mind drifting away from him yet again as he observed the simple mental shift in response to his words. "You are so beautiful, Morgana."

* * *

They were at her gate when the request floated hopeful from her. 'Kiss me.'

A thrill ran through him. He took her arm in his and arched up close to her. Oh, the taste of her, his senses filled and he grasped her more tightly. His body ached in longing. 'Oh, Morgana.'

The mental switch. The breaking point. The last shred of reasoning in his head shouted at him to get away from her. He pulled away as fast as he could, his fangs slid out of their sheaths.  
"Drake!"  
He covered his beak, turning away from her, gasping for control. "Thatzh... not what I meant ... why ..." He fell back against the fence, shutting his eyes.

"Drake?"  
It was a moment after his fangs slid back. "That doesn't make sense." He looked up at her. Another surge of lust filled him at the sight of her and he turned his head away again, shuddering with the effort to get control back.  
"Have you got any ideas from your last boyfriend? Maybe ... conjure up a bucket of ice water to dump on me?"  
"I haven't dated any vampires before ... I mean, at least I don't think I have ... actually I'm not entirely sure, but I do know that vampires aren't affected by the cold, so ice water won't do any good."

With a resigned sigh, Drake opened the gate and let her through without making eye contact. He walked up the pathway with her beside him in silence. She stepped up the porch stairs and he didn't follow her up.

"Goodnight, Morgana. I'm sorry about tonight." He disappeared into a cloud of vapour and headed back down the pathway.

* * *

Morgana turned around and he'd vanished. For a moment, Morgana stood there on the porch, seething to herself. Then she decided to take action.

"Darkwing, you come back here, right this instant!"  
He appeared again just a few metres down the path and walked back up. "Sure?"

She reviewed him. It wasn't worth mentioning it to him, but she noted to herself that from the door to the path and back, he'd changed clothes and was back in his grey and black version of his Darkwing Duck costume. She had to be more careful about what she called him in the future when they were around other people.

"What do you think about when you think of me?"  
"... Right now I'm thinking you'd make a good mother with the ability to tone your voice like that." He grinned. "I mean, you've got raw talent."  
Morgana raised an eyebrow. Even though he had Gosalyn, he'd never exactly included Morgana in that equation before. Morgana had invoked a great deal of self discipline not to scare him off by pushing the idea on him.

"You're still not focusing, Drake."  
"It's very hard to focus. I have been working on it. I can see my boundaries, but other people just keep crowding me in."  
"You can hear thoughts?"  
"Occasionally. Don't you know things about vampires?"  
"Well, what I've studied. I've never been in prolonged contact with one."  
He stepped up onto the porch in front of her. There was an eager look on his face. Evidently he had now disregarded his prior blushes. "What did your studies tell you? Oh, please, Morgana."

She took this opportunity to put her hand against his chest. There was a sharp heart beat, and then nothing. A sharp beat and then silence. "Vampires ... oh my. There are so many words to try to describe." She circled around to stand behind him, pressing her fingers to the base of his neck, counting the vertebrae down his neck. She dug her fingers into the muscles in his upper back. "Does that feel better?"  
"I didn't even realise I was ... Ungh."  
She applied a small amount of universal energy and he groaned in the temporary relief. "I thought so." Now she was looking halfly through the energy realm, she could make out the tracings of phantom wings in his aural field.

"What, Morg?"  
"The change is inside you, Drake. Your heart, your brain works differently. It's like being a teenager again; your soul adapts."  
He raised an eyebrow at that. "Morgana, I never wanted to hurt you." He spun around, grasping her fingers, surprising her. Her fingers let another spark of energy through. "Hmm." He kissed her fingers. "Morgana." He murmured. "Let me try again."  
"You haven't been a vampire for very long, Drake. It takes time to learn control of the compulsion for blood."  
"Oh?" He opened out her fingers by gently pressing his thumb into the centre of her palm. He kissed her wrist.  
"Drake!"  
It was a simple kiss, light, and gentle ... right over the veins leading to her hand.

He put his arms around her, swinging her down into his reach. Then he pressed his beak against hers.

It was plain, uncomplicated and tender.  
"That's more like it." He announced quietly.  
"You're not having a problem anymore, Drake?"  
"Frankly, yes; I think your use of the word 'teenager' was a little harsh."  
"Oh, Drake. You can read my thoughts, you know what I meant."

He let her up. "Sort of, sort of not. There are lots of different ways a mind fills up the air around them." He paused, gazing up into her eyes. "I think I'm starting to get the hang of it." He hesitated. "Maybe with you at least."  
"In what way?"  
"You only just said I was learning. That confused reaction must have been because I've pent it up so long with the ... other one."  
"So, now you can't bottle up anymore?"  
He gazed at her. "Morgana, I'm not ... sure what your studies told you about the nature of vampires, and I'm not sure how well I explained what I saw ..." He took a breath. "Vampires ... are excessively gregarious. You get one vampire alone, and, well, that's just odd. But when there's a whole group of them it gets very ..." He gestured with his hands, "... connected."

"Mmm, I do remember you ... explaining ... to me about that incident."  
"Morgana, I can't hide from it much longer, Gosalyn's already commented on it. I'm ... I ..."

Drake watched Morgana's fingers twitching as her eyes danced over him. Her heart rate had accelerated. She took his arm and gently tugged him inside the doorway. "Oh, I think I can help you with that little problem!" She took a deep, tremulous breath, gazing excitedly at him.  
"It didn't occur to me to ask what the relationship between witches and vampires traditionally is."  
"It really depends on how far back you want to delve."

She smiled and closed the door.

____

____

* * *

_Please Review! How does this compare on the points scale of 1-10 being _Twilight _to _HBO's True Blood_? How can I improve? What is not making sense? Please please review!_


	15. Just Drawn That Way

_A/N: "I'm not bad, I'm just drawn that way."_

_Jessica Rabbit's famous line in Who Framed Roger Rabbit, was revamped in an episode of the first season of Angel. I may be a little shallow or easily pleased, but little things like a single perfect line can win my favour for an entire episode. Kudos to Joss Whedon and his writing team, because there was a lot of perfect lines in Buffy and Angel._

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen: I'm not Crazy; I'm a Vampire**

* * *

_Monday Morning_

Steelbeak glanced blankly at the census records that appeared on the screen. It was meaningless without a clue to start. Last time they'd gotten a business owner that was much older than he looked. The time before that they'd gotten a postal worker that had a freakishly good rapport with guard dogs. What other ways might a vampire slip up over their identity? He sat back, putting his feet up on the table, thinking for a long moment.

"Occupation." Steelbeak muttered, thinking aloud. "Sounds like ..." he tapped the side of his metal beak before pointing to his lackeys, "... a lawyer." He chuckled; "bingo!"

He sat back up and re-jigged the data on the computer, sorting it by occupation. After a moment he had narrowed the search to a page of names. "Boys, we gotta be more careful this time. I don't want 'em to even know they're being got at."  
"How, boss, unless we ask 'em?"

"How about a couple'a hand mirrors?" He chortled at how easy the answer came to him.  
The eggmen standing in front of him grinned back at him and saluted. "Sure thing, boss."

* * *

_Monday Afternoon_

A triumphant Robert Max bounded across the courtroom with his suitcase in his hand. The state lawyer was still sitting, taking an extra moment to pack his briefcase in his defeat.

"A good battle, hey, colleague?"  
Robert heard Rex Euston curse softly. "This system is flawed."  
Robert glanced around. Only he could have heard that one.

"Come on, Rexy," he prodded in determination, "admit it, there's not enough fight in you to take me on and to win."  
"Robert, it's very true; I'm not into blood sports." Rex fixed his eyes on his colleague. I wouldn't have a hope to defeat you on that level."

"There's nothing wrong with a bit of blood. It makes you know you're still alive." Robert frowned and withdrew his hand.  
"Yes; if there's one thing you get to know about the defence system, it's that civilisation is the superficial face of the savage within us all."

"You said it! Speaking of which, are you ready to face the press out there?"  
Rex pulled a face. "Are you?"  
Robert grinned and picked up his briefcase again. "Let's go. Don't worry, buddy. I'll protect you."|  
"Thanks." Rex cocked an eyebrow. "You've got to be the weirdest defence lawyer I've ever worked with in all my years in the department."  
"Yeah, well they all say that after they lose." Robert laughed and they filed out of the courtroom. "Thing is, weird suits a lot of my clients pretty fine."

* * *

In the hall, the press inundated them. Lights, cameras, action; it was all happening. The two lawyers pushed along as far as they could and then at the front door, there was more press waiting for them and they were pinned.

"Raul Rhode, representative for DNS Duck Network Studios. Mr. Attorney, after all the effort to take Negaduck off the streets by our dedicated police force, will this defeat signify his release back into the general public?"  
"No, it will not!" Rex barked determinedly. "The issue addressed today was solely on whether Negaduck was able to stand trial yet. Until such time as the defendant is physically well enough to be brought to face the charges against him, the charges are merely on hold." He glanced at Robert Max, hoping they might ask him the next question.

"This is Dan Gander of St Canard Network." The poodle with such an unlikely name jumped in ahead of the other reporters. "Mr. Attorney Euston. What opinion do you have for the defence's argument that Negaduck isn't well enough to stand trial?"  
"It is logical to accept sickness as an occasional part of life." Rex answered frostily. "I do however wish him a speedy recovery for our next review." He cleared his throat. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have said all I care to say at the moment. I have other matters to attend to." Rex pushed through the crowd.

"Mr. Max, what exactly is Negaduck sick from?"  
"Is he contagious?"  
"I'm afraid that information is confidential, folks." Robert Max smiled. "Be sure that he is on the road to recovery."

* * *

_Monday Night_

"You're doing a lot better, tonight, Drake."

Drake and Eider dodged each other with the quarterstaffs.  
Eider blocked Drake's next attack. "You know your high school grades are very deceptive."  
"I did try to concentrate towards the end."  
Eider lunged and Drake blocked.  
"So, you're not going to tell me where you picked up the crime fighting skills?"

Drake dodged Eider's next strike, spun about, blocked and twisted the locked staffs around so that Eider lost his hold. "I'm what you might call an unconventional person. I'd like to leave it at that."  
"Okay! I'll leave the subject alone." Eider laughed. "But just for curiosity's sake, does your friend Launchpad know?"  
Drake turned away and crossed the room to put his staff back in the rack. He directly averted Eider's question again.

"You know I can fight. You know I can solve crimes."  
"The only challenge now is facing off an actual armed villain without losing control."  
"Again!" Drake spun around angrily, facing him. "Do you appreciate the fact that I ... did have control? Do you have ... any ... idea what it's like to be here, starting all over again? I can't afford to spend the same amount of time to ... make myself not crazy again. Not now. There are too many things in motion."

Eider squeezed his shoulder. "You're not crazy, Drake; you're a vampire'." Eider chuckled. "You're with us now."  
"Okay, so how do I defeat the vampire in me?"  
Eider put his staff back in the rack. "Well ... that's the question, isn't it? How do you normally defeat an opponent?"  
"I generally outwit them. But unfortunately, that doesn't seem to want to work anymore."  
"Nah, come on." Eider grinned. "Think of it as a challenge. You were doing alright playing with the Quarterstaffs just now."

Drake stopped, a thought coming to him. "Is everything a game with you?"  
"Hey, why not?" Eider ushered him out of the room as if Drake had given him the perfect idea. "Just you and me."  
Drake followed him to the armoury, where Eider handed him a Quarterstaff. This one did not have rubber safety tips.

Then the department head led him into the surveillance room. "Is there any movement, Jason?" Eider stepped up to one of the monitor officers.  
"Not a lot. There's a pair of Merostius. It's nothing to worry about, sir."  
"Where?"  
"They've parked themselves on Poultry Road about thirty kilometres out."  
"Good. I'll be back later."

"Eider! I ..." Drake clasped his hands to his beak, feeling a horrid tension facing off between his logic and his instincts. "I can't!" He shouted, and took a ragged breath. His body ached all over again. Was this not what Gosalyn had warned him about? "How can you do this to me?" He croaked.  
"Come on." Eider dragged him out of the presence of the others and closed the door behind them.

* * *

"I know you need it, Drake. Anyone can see you're about ready to jump out of your feathers, and that's not good."

"Right, and last time, Quackerjack tried to help me out of it, and he ended up accidentally setting fire to the whole of Oak and Manly."  
"Alright," Eider stepped up and spoke softly into his ear; "newsflash." He stepped back from Drake. "Your friend is out there right now, doing his very best to fill in for you."  
"I know that."  
"Did you also know he's not being entirely successful? What about last Thursday night?"

Drake swallowed. "Hey ... at least he's ... What happened last Thursday night?"  
"So your daughter really is doing a good job protecting you from yourself."  
"What happened?" Drake gritted.  
"Reginald Bushroot took out a bank withdrawal."  
"He robbed a bank on his own? He only does that when he's out of fertilizer and potting mixture."

"Actually, I think it was probably more the council rates this time. I got mine in the mail last week. Didn't you get yours?"  
Drake sighed. "Gosalyn collects the mail."  
Eider burst into laughter.

"I can't say that I'm amused. Those things have due dates. Gosalyn knows better than that."  
"Yeah, and she's also probably figured out your internet banking password too and paid the thing for you. Your kid's a lot smarter than the average nine year old Envy. Even Bushroot knows those rates have to get paid."

"Do you know how hard it is for Darkwing Duck to catch that leafy menace, if at all?"  
"But isn't it true that you'd have more success?"  
"He's everybody's headache." Drake sighed in a feeling of failure. "I can't do anything. I'm stuck here."

"Come with me to Poultry road."  
"I can't risk not being able to control it."  
"It'll be just you and me. There'll be absolutely no one else to worry about." Eider handed him back the quarterstaff.

Drake hesitated and then finally took it. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.  
"Feeling better?"  
"Yes, I ... I don't get it."  
"You feel better because you've made the decision to help yourself. Poultry road, here we go. Ready?"

They vanished from the corridor.

* * *

Rex sighed, lay down on the sofa and put his feet up on the arm of the chair. "Sick! What a load. The only sickness he's got is that anti-societal brain of his." He put his hand to his brow, massaging his headache. "I hope that savage duck is going stir crazy in that secure wing."

There was a sound outside the house that made the hair on his back stand up on end and his ears prick up. "Who's there?" His heart rate jumped up and he leapt off the couch. "It must be one of my many admiring fans." He went to the side of the door, picked out the baseball bat from the umbrella holder and then clenched the handle tightly in his fist. "Look, I'm not stupid, I know you're there." He shivered. "Uh oh ..." He dropped the bat, glancing around. "I need to get out of ..." The lounge room window shattered and the furniture exploded under a rain of bullets. Rex braced himself against the entrance room's wall, covering his face.

Five came through the window, but there was ten more outside. One of the invaders fired a tranquilizer gun at him just as he looked up to see them.

"You've made a mistake." He fell to his knees.  
"Say, it's funny how you all keep saying that."  
"You ... you've kidnapped ... others?" He wrestled to stay on his knees. "I'm with the attorney's office. I demand that you ..."  
"Down boy." The eggman fired another tranquilizer dart into him. "This time, we're gonna make sure you don't wake up for nothing."

He fired a third time and Rex blacked out.


	16. Instinct

_A/N: With the addition of this chapter, Dark Duck II now has a total of over 50,000 words. I'm not sure of what '50,000' means exactly in terms of literature, but I think it's a pretty number._

_A/N: Thank you John Kander, Fred Ebb and Louis Armstrong for reminding us that "life is a _Cabaret"_._

_A/N: Please Review! I really do want to improve. Even if you just pointed out the weirdest parts that would help immensely._

_A/N: Communal like the vampire bat, savage like the striking snake, clever like the fox, lurking like the wolf and regal like the dragon. _

_A/N: There's a few references here that go back to _Love Forever After_, so if it's a bit more confusing than it ordinarily is, that may be the reason. I'm a bit short on presuppositions for this but I am working on it._

_

* * *

_

**Instinct**

* * *

Darkwing Duck and Lawrence Eider stared down into a valley. Several livestock were partially devoured and the shed nearby was also partially devoured. The stench of death was revolting.

"I think Jason was grossly understating the situation." Darkwing evaluated the situation.  
"They're only Merostius." Eider countered. "They're smaller and the destruction they do is localised to their chosen feeding ground. They only move once they've eaten everything in proximity to their burrows." At that moment, a large crustacean looking thing skittered into full view.

"Whatever!" Darkwing rolled his eyes. "There's two of them and they may be smaller than the one I saw last time, but they're each just as angry as he was."

The demon in their view tore off a branch from a tree near the shed and began devouring it.  
"Also hungry." Eider said in a hollow voice. "Don't forget hungry."  
"Yeah, I notice that too. Thanks."

Together they made their way down the hill and into range of the demons.

* * *

With his quarterstaff, Eider blocked a wild snap of pincers.

Darkwing avoided another grab and ducked under the creature's multiple sticklike legs. He found himself on the opposite side of the demons from Eider. "We should split up." He twirled the staff in his hands to attract attention. "Here, boy, come here. Look at me."

The demon shortly realised he was behind it and turned around. Darkwing stepped backwards, drawing it away. He managed to successfully separate it from its partner. He continued to twirl the staff, "hi there, Merostius. Shouldn't you be getting on home to your own dimension?" He stopped spinning the metal rod and made to gently poke the creature. It snatched the staff and started chewing on it.

"It's a demon of the garbage compactor variety, obviously." Darkwing commented as he dove under another snapping grab. Then the multi-legged creature spun around, knocking him off balance and under foot. In the next instant, one of its stick legs was coming down right over the top of him. He grabbed it before it skewered him. He heard a snap.

In the instant that followed, the demon let out a screech of pain and then the smell of blood filled Darkwing's senses. He shoved the creature over as he got up. It flailed its remaining legs wildly in the air.

Pain. And it wasn't coming from him. Darkwing put his hand firmly against the exoskeletal layer, willing, pushing his mind out and into the injured demon. 'Stop.' A savage simplicity answered him, and he quietened it with the calm that filled him in this moment of being in absolute control. Control, even of who was feeling the pain.

He lowered his head to the ligament he'd torn and felt his teeth slide out and straight through into the flesh. Blood filled his mouth, tasting of exactly what every other sense had told him about this creature; powerful, savage and simple.

* * *

He felt giddy as he stepped away from his victim. The hunger that had become a permanent part of his life was currently absent. Along with that, he could feel his concentration deteriorating rapidly. 'This is a big problem.' He reminded himself, forcing himself to stay alert. As he looked around for a safe haven, he noted that Eider was nearly finished with his meal.

The tree was the answer. In a moment he was at the base and a moment later he was secure up in the branches.

* * *

After summoning the Vespers to clear the mess, Lawrence Eider stepped up towards the nearby tree. "Darkwing?"

"No, don't. Please don't."  
He stopped, and looked up into the branches at his contract employee. "Okay, sorry." Lawrence sat down on the ground right there. At this moment he felt quite content to let his trainee be as weird as he felt that he needed to be. "Put down your knitting, the book and the broom ..." He sighed, shutting his eyes. "What good is sitting alone in your room?" He yawned "... hear the music play."

"Do you know what happened?"  
Lawrence opened his eyes. "You don't remember?" He asked slightly alarmed.  
"Oh ... I remember."  
Lawrence sighed in relief. "Do you have a bit more faith in your ability to control yourself now?"  
"Yes."  
"So then, are you going to come down from that tree?"

"I'm quite comfortable up here, actually. I should be getting home and check on my daughter."  
Eider yawned. "I want to see my wife before I get back to work too." He picked up the staff as he got up.  
"You're ... married?" Darkwing jumped down from the tree, fixing his eyes warily on Lawrence like a fox might.  
"Only for about nineteen years, so it's still a bit of a new thing for us." Lawrence grinned happily. "And I can tell you have a girlfriend because ... Wait a second ... I think I get your problem now."

It struck Lawrence that Darkwing's fashion sense was about fifty years out of date in both of his wardrobes. Darkwing's moral standing was similarly archaic. Darkwing's sense of propriety was obviously bound to be just as old fashioned. It didn't help that he was looking at the vampire world from an outsider's point of view. Lawrence shook his head. Normal interaction between vampires was not something Darkwing was currently prepared to cope with.

But Darkwing didn't need to be comfortable around other vampires in order to stop Steelbeak and his vampire experiments, so it wasn't Lawrence's place to say anything.

* * *

"So, now that you have some faith in your ability to control yourself, I'll see you back at the office when you're ready again. And by 'ready' I expect you to bring your confidence with you." Eider vanished.  
Darkwing sighed in relief that the other was gone.

"Thank you." He looked back at the tree. "You were a great help." He put his hand to the trunk of the tree, letting his energy spill out again into the other. "How is that wound doing? Healing; that's good." Darkwing looked around him. Eider had cleaned up the mess that the Merostius had made, as well as the demons themselves.

"Vespers." He shook his head. "I should be investigating disappearances too. Although, it's not something just any vampire can do." He'd had Vespers for a while, and so far, it was little more than a follow through on instinct. He yawned. "What's wrong with me? Why am I so tired?"

Then all at once he had the answer. He was full on blood. And because he was full, he had no need of his predator instincts. And now that Eider had gone, he didn't need to protect himself anymore, so his defence systems were shutting down too. He stumbled, yawning again. "I need to go to bed." He closed his eyes, recalling his room to his mind.

He half opened his eyes and dropped down into his bed before him and drifted off into a fitful sleep.

* * *

Drake woke up. Noise. Downstairs ... Gosalyn. He looked at the alarm clock. Six a.m. He checked his memory. It was Tuesday.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, looking at the curtained window. He jumped up and feeling bold, he snatched the curtain away from the window. He caught the curtain rod as it came down over his head. "Oops." He stepped up on the windowsill and put it back up on the holder. Then he jumped down and looked out onto the early morning sunshine. He opened the window, leaning out. "I get it now."

He snapped his beak shut, realising he was thinking out loud. He gazed at the light filled world, appreciating the fact that he no longer felt sickly.

Drake checked the curtain was staying put back in its holder and went downstairs to join his daughter.

* * *

The kitchen was a familiar mess as Gosalyn was concocting her morning juice escapade. Drake stopped at the doorway, watching her improving her expertise in the kitchen.

Then she glanced up and jumped with the knife. "Ow! Dad, what are you doing up already?"  
"Oh, Gosalyn! Let me have a look at that." He was across the room in an instant.  
"No, dad, it's ..." He swept her up into his arms and took her cut finger between his own fingers, willing it to heal like he had with the tree. He let go of her hand.

She looked at her finger. "It's gone." She blinked, "that's ... amazing ... Dad-you-scared-the-heck-out-of-me!" She sobbed and hugged him, burying her face in his chest. Her heart was pounding.  
"Oh, no." He rocked her softly, "I'm sorry I frightened you. I love you, Gosalyn. You're my little girl. All that my vampire instincts want me to do is protect you. There's nothing for me to disagree with." She sighed, calming down finally and he set his subdued daughter into a chair. "I'm sorry I startled you."

He took up the knife and put it in the sink, took out a fresh one and finished cutting up the last of the fruit in front of her. "I was just watching you, thinking how well you're growing up." He scraped the bits into the blender and put the lid on it. He turned it on, watching it all disappear into a thick mix. He took off the lid and pulled out two glasses from the cupboard, filled them up and brought them to the table.

She gazed at him with her watery eyes and wet cheeks as she took the glass he handed to her. "What happened with Mr. Eider last night, dad?"  
"We ... went field." Gosalyn gaped at him. "He convinced me it'd help me."  
"He did? He convinced ... you?"  
"Okay! You've made your point. But it did help me. Gos, up till last night, I seemed to lose ... it was like the ball kept getting away from me."  
"That's because you haven't practiced. You've got to know how to manage the ball, gotta know how to hit it right. You only know once you get in there and have a go. The more practice, the better your game."

"That's very good advice for the both of us."  
She frowned again. "That's a foul play, dad. You're not allowed to bring homework into a breakfast conversation."  
"I never mentioned homework. It must be your guilty conscience playing tricks on you." He finished his juice and stood up. "Now what about some cereal with milk for you, young lady?"

"Yes, thanks, dad."

* * *

"That's great, Robert." Negaduck glared at his legal representative from his bedside. "So instead of being in a holding cell, I'm stuck in here."

"Well, it's marginally better."  
Negaduck narrowed his eyes. "At least in prison they don't keep you doped up on tranquilizers." He held up his hand to show Robert the tube insert that was taped to his feathers.

"What about the food service?"  
"You make a great argument," Negaduck rolled his eyes, "that's why I hired you."  
"Hey, about that ..."  
"If you're looking for payment, I'm afraid you'll have to wait till I have access to money."  
"I'm not stupid, I know that." Robert snorted.

"I'm talking about the attorney, Rex Euston. Now don't tell me," He put in quickly, "I'm telling you. The scouts are going to come in here, looking for what's happened to him, and they'll be looking to pin it on you."  
Negaduck looked furiously at the secure hospital room he'd endured for so long. "Lemme get this straight. The guy who's got my case has taken a dive?"

"Last night, after I bought you more time from him, he disappeared." Robert frowned, got up off the chair and walked towards the door. "I liked Rex, he was a brilliant lawyer. He could nail anything with a heartbeat."  
"No. No way. That's impossible." Negaduck's feathers curled. "But why'd you say that if it wasn't the case?" He said in a husky voice.  
"It's just what they say about Rex. It's just a saying we have for him. Negaduck? What's wrong?" Negaduck was suddenly aware that the heart rate monitor was going off beside him again. Right on cue, the nurse's voice sounded from the doorway.

"It's time to go, Mr. Max. I can't have you upsetting the patient any more." As he left she hurried in to check the monitor readings. Negaduck watched her tsking to herself. It was the same sound they made after they woke him up out of his nightmares. Before they gave him an extra dose of sedative.

"No!" The heart monitor continued to beep erratically. "I don't need ..." He made to grab her arm as she readied with the dose but the security officers were on him in an instant. "Let ... go of me!" With the adrenalin surging through him from his scare, he pushed the two officers back from him. He grabbed the needle from the nurse. "As I was saying, thanks for the tranquilizer! I need it ... to get out of here before that stupid lawyer comes back from his vacation and eats me!" He jumped out of the bed and ran out of the room. The security officers raced breathlessly after him.


	17. A Study in Shadows

****

Chapter Seventeen: A Study in Shadows

* * *

Halfway across the globe somewhere in Britain, a duck sat in a dark study, surrounded by books, charts and paper. The only light was a gloomy yellow lamp and a crack of sunlight that stole in through the curtains.

For several weeks, he had been collecting data on his computer. Printouts littered the table; news reports and case files. Some of these dated back a full two years. He picked up the chronologically first one. It was a train heist, speaking of a masked unknown, the series followed on to an explosion that ripped the top three layers off a large sky rise. Then there was a gap of some few months, before the next reference to this masked unknown.

At this point, the vigilante had a name as they wrote about the escapade. He looked at the random sheets of fleeting stories and sketchy pictures. They told of someone who appeared out of a cloud of smoke. They suggested someone who was seemingly indestructible. He looked back at the picture of the unfortunate sky rise. They claimed this someone could not be defeated by criminals, either common or uncommon. He picked out a picture of a super villain called Megavolt. If the rat could emit an electrical charge of such intensity, then why hadn't he succeeded in stopping this vigilante?

"Mister Ducker, sir?" He looked up from his musings.  
"Here's the ticket you wanted. Your itinery is booked."  
He took the eticket from his student. "When is the flight scheduled?"  
"Six o'clock tomorrow morning."  
"Good. Now if you'll excuse me, I have equipment to pack." He delved into his top drawer and started unloading the bulky contents.  
"Sir, why this guy?" Juan Ducker looked up at the boy.  
"You disagree with your teacher, Allan?"  
"Well, he just doesn't seem like a bad guy." He picked up a report on a heist by a criminal named Tuskernini. It boldly told how Darkwing Duck had successfully stopped the hostage situation from turning ugly and quoted a judge making a public apology to the vigilante.

"Oh, really?" Ducker stood up. He put his hands on the table and leaned forwards. "What have I said before?"  
"That there's no such thing as a good vampire." Allan responded with a flushed face. Below eye-level, there was a small rattle and thump as one of the round wooden stakes fell onto the carpeted floor.  
"Don't make the mistake, boy. Don't ever trust a vampire."

* * *

At the Hamil Corporation offices back in St Canard, Darkwing Duck stood in a corridor with Lawrence Eider.

Eider placed the blindfold over Darkwing's eyes and tied it up. He opened the door and drew him into the room beyond.  
"Nothing that you see matters." He shut the door with a click.  
"I think I've done this one before." Darkwing muttered.  
"Focus on the sound of the room itself."  
"The room?"  
"You'll get it." Darkwing considered the room that was silent and blank. "Come and get me." Eider moved away from Darkwing, further into the room. Darkwing took a single step forwards, and his footing gave way. He landed heavily on the floor with a resounding thump. Something rattled near his face. "What the heck?" He considered the sound. "Roller-skates." He stood up again. Concentrating on the footwear, Darkwing looked for the one he'd tripped on.

There were three sets of roller-skates in total, scattered across the floor. He picked one up in interest. "That's a size 6 Red Rock speed skate. Gosalyn has these, just a size smaller."  
"Yeah, so does my little one. She outgrew these though."  
"How'd I know that?" Darkwing realised he still had his blindfold on.  
"Instinct prevails. It's called a sonic stream. Try it again on the whole room this time." It was a moment, and Darkwing had the full picture.

_

* * *

_

Moral/Overview: Not everything you are taught is necessarily correct.

___Moral/Overview: Trust and faith are powerful allies._

_Moral/Overview: Clearly, these two things contradict each other. Only personal judgement will see the way._


End file.
